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This edition is limited to 500 copies on
small paper and 100 copies on larger
hand-made paper.

LIFE AND TIMES

A. B. D U R A N D.

THE

LIFE AND TIMES

A. B. DURAND

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WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

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A. B. DURAND.

Engraved by Alfred Jones from a Photograph.

THE

LIFE AND TIMES

A. B. DURAND

JOHN DURAND

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

JAN_H^U,

NATIONAL COttfCTWN Of FINE ARTS

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

NEW YORK

1894

JAN 5 1968

LONDON:

Printed by Strangeiuays & Sons,
Tower Street, Cambridge Circus, W.C.

PREFACE.

THE various subjects that illustrate this volume
have been selected not so much on account of
their artistic merit as to show diversity of talent,
and, again, because they were accessible and adapted to
photographic processes of reproduction. Among those
lent for this purpose, I am indebted to Mr. Robert
Hoe for ' An Oak Tree ; ' Miss Fanny Gilliss for
' Washington and Harvey Birch ; ' Mr. Frederick R.
Sturges for the ' Portrait of Luman Reed ; ' and the
New York Historical Society for ' The Wrath of Peter
Stuyvesant,' belonging to the collection of the New
York Gallery of Fine Arts. My acknowledgments
are specially due to Mr. Alfred Jones for the gift of
the portrait forming the frontispiece of the volume,
engraved by him after a photograph. To those whose
names are mentioned in the text as having furnished
interesting material, I have to add my thanks to Mrs.

vi PREFACE.

J. Wordsworth Thompson for the use of valuable
documents ; also to Mr. Charles Henry Hart, Professor
William M. Sloane, and Mr. Gaston Fay, for kindred
services. Finally, my acknowledgments are particularly
due to Mr. Philip Gilbert Hamerton for the benefit of
his taste and experience in rendering this book far more
attractive than it would have been without his sympathetic
and generous co-operation.

Maplewood, N.J.,

August 21, 1894.

CONTENTS.

BOYHOOD.

1706-181^.

CHAP. /V J PAGE

I. French Origin — Genealogy — Parentage — Colonial Times — Politics
and Religion — Amusements — Beverages, Food, Cooking, and
'Help' — Topography of Jefferson Village — Influence of Environ-
ment on the Child ........ i

YOUTH AND MANHOOD.
1814-1822.

II. Autobiographical Fragment — Character of Parents — School-days —
The Grammar Machine — Apprenticed to an Engraver — Partner-
ship with his Master — First Work — Engraves 'The Declaration
of Independence' by Trumbull — Dissolution of Partnership —
Trumbull and his Gallery . . . . .17

III. Fourth of July Oration — Poetic Effusions — 'Love and Moonshine'
■ — Marriage — Michael Pekenino — Mental Training — -Recreation
— The ' Elysian Fields,' Hoboken — The ' Battery,' New York . 30

THE ENGRAVING PERIOD.
1823-1832.

IV. The Profession of an Artist a hard one — Line Engraving a Fine Art
— Nature of Art — Utility of the Artist in Society — Religious
Sentiment : its First Inspiration — Gradual Growth of other
Sentiments in Past Art — Fidelity of bygone Artists to Natural
Perceptions .......... 43

viii CONTENTS.

CHAP. PAGE

V. Dunlap offers a Commission — Various Portraits Engraved — Clergy-
men, Patriots, Actors, and Physicians — The 'Annual' — Foreign
Reputation of American Artists — Exhibitions — Rise of Art
Institutions — The Press — Letter of James Fenimore Cooper —
Collection of Philip Hone — Michael PafF — Fashion in Art . 54

VI. Engraving for Business Purposes — Hatters' Cards, Lottery Tickets,
Diplomas, Ball Tickets, and Horses — -Bank-note Engraving — ■
Drawings of Vignettes — The American Landscape — Prospectus by
Bryant — James Smillie— ' Musidora' and 'Ariadne ' ... 69

VII. Aspect of New York in this period — The 'Lunch Club' — Out-door
Painting — Self-instruction — Affections — An Avenger of Wrong

— Pseudo-reformers — Sylvester Graham — The ' Mad Poet,'
McDonald Clarke — Pupils — The 'Sketch Club' and its Objects

— End of Engraving Career — Initiatory Efforts at Painting . 78

LUMAN REED.

1833-1836.

VIII. Luman Reed — The Service of Wealth — The Commercial Man-
Early American Artists — Business Career of Mr. Reed — His
Taste for Art — Our Artist visits Washington — General Jackson
and his Portrait — Mr. Reed's relations with G. W. Flagg —
Souvenirs of Mr. Hackett — House and Gallery of Mr. Reed —
Illness and Death — Tributes by Cole, Mount, and Flagg — Effects
of Mr. Reed's Example — The New York Gallery of Fine Arts

THE PAINTING PERIOD.
1836-1869.

IX. A Turning-point in Life — Figure-subjects — 'High Art' — Character
of Exhibitions — The 'Hanging Committee ' Criticised — Various
Features of Art — Ithiel Town — An Old Lady — P. T. Barnum —
City and Country Life Compared — The 'Mecca' of an Artist 131

CONTENTS. ix

CHAP. PAGE

X. Tour in Europe — Steamer Life — George Combe — 'Old Masters'
in London — C. R. Leslie — Sir David Wilkie — Appreciation of
the English School of Art — A Masquerade — London and the
Country — Switzerland — Italy — Works executed in Florence —
Claude Lorraine — -Life in Rome — Voyage Home — Icebergs —
Arrival . . . . . . . . . . .143

XT. The Period of Production — Prosperity of the Country — The Art
Union War — Benefit of the Institution — Record of Works —
Resigns the Presidency of the National Academy of Design —
Summer Excursions — Life in the Woods — Art in a Western City
— Studies from Nature — The Crayon — Rise and Decline of the
American School . . . . . . . . .167

OLD AGE.
1870-1886.

XII. Retires into the Country — Works produced there — Letter to a
'Patron' — Lays down the Brush for ever — A 'Surprise Party' —
Evidences of the Esteem of Young Artists — The Interviewer —
Closing Years — Characteristic Traits — Portraits of the Artist . 197

APPENDIX. — I. Extracts from 'Letters on Landscape Painting,' pub-
lished in the Crayon, 1855 — II. Reply of Horatio Greenough to
a criticism by George William Curtis on the picture, ' God's
Judgment upon Gog,' published in the New York Tribune, 1852
— III. List of Engravings by A. B. Durand . . . .211

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Portrait of A. B. Durand .

Portrait of Colonel John Trumbull

Musidora .

Bank-note Vignettes .

Ariadne

Portrait of Luman Reed

The Wrath of Peter Stuyvesant

Washington and Harvey Birch .

Portrait of a Child .

An Iceberg ....

A Sycamore- tree, Plaaterkill Clove

A Butternut-tree, Lake George

An Oak-tree, Fishkill Landing .

A Pine-tree, Lake George .

Frontispiece

PAGE

70
72

102
I 20
132
I44
164
I 76
184
188
204

LIFE AND TIMES OF A. B. DURAND.

CHAPTER I.

French Origin — Genealogy — Parentage — Colonial Times — Politics and Religion
— Amusements — Beverages, Food, Cooking, and ' Help ' — Topography of
Jefferson Village — Influence of Environment on the Child.

A SHER BROWN DURAND, the subject of this work, is
f-\ of French origin. Jean Durand, his ancestor, a Huguenot
refugee from Toulouse, in the south of France, fled to
England and was naturalised in that country in July 1684. Jean
Durand emigrated to America, and there, now John Durand,
appears as a witness (February 8th, 1702) to a deed of purchase
from the Indians of the land on which the town of Milford in
Connecticut was built. In May 1705 he is a resident of the
town of Derby in that State, and applies to the Assembly for
1 freemanship. ' In May 1709, recorded as Dr. John Durand, he
is appointed a delegate of the town of Milford on an expedition
into Canada. His importance socially is attested by the following
ofHcial record : ' By vote, Dr. Durand shall sit in the second
seat of the square next the pulpit.' Dr. John Durand married
Elizabeth Bryan, daughter of a prominent merchant of the day,
and had eight children. The sixth of these children, named
Samuel, was born July 7th, 17 13. Samuel Durand left Con-
necticut for New Jersey about 1740, and settled in the town of

LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

Newark, where he married Mary Bruen and had six children.
His second child, John, was born October ioth, 1745. On
reaching manhood, John Durand established himself in a place
six miles from Newark and two miles from Springfield, called, at
a later period, Jefferson Village, where, in 1774, he purchased
land and erected a dwelling-house.

How the progenitors of the Durand family conducted or
occupied themselves previous to the settlement of the aforesaid
John Durand at Jefferson Village is merely of personal interest.
It is presumable that they attended to their own affairs and
fulfilled their social and political duties like other folks, without
claiming or having bestowed upon them any privilege or honour
that could distinguish them from their neighbours. In colonial
times, according to early records, the rank of a man in society
was determined, as we have seen, by the location of his pew in
the meeting-house, while ' no one was allowed to vote who did
not belong to the Church.' * It is probable that they were thus
qualified, but that, inheriting French temperaments, they lived
like most genial people, content to take life as it comes and
gratify their religious sentiments in their own way. Why they
emigrated from Connecticut to New Jersey is open to conjec-
ture. It may have been that they did so to enjoy more freedom
of action, like many others domiciliated among the more rigid
Puritans of New England ; or, again, and probably the true
reason, they left Connecticut in accordance with the ' incessant
movement to and fro of people seeking to better their condition.'
In any event, it may be said of them that, as Huguenots, they
were ' the fine flower of an accomplished people, men of active

* Forty Tears in America, by T. L. Nichols, M.D. ; The Emancipation of
Massachusetts, by Brooks Adams.

PARENTAGE.

minds, austere morals, heroic courage, and often of refined
manners.'* I lay stress only on the fact that the Durand family
is of French origin. Certain qualities, talents, and works which
distinguish a man are more readily appreciated when one knows
from what nationality he has sprung, which is the case with the
subject of this memoir.

John Durand, having provided himself with a house, married
Rachel Post of Newark, a young widow with one child, whose
maiden name was Meyer, November 9th, 1779, in the thirty-
fourth year of his age. His wife was of Dutch origin. Judging
by a portrait of her, painted by my father in her sixty-fourth
year, she might be taken for a Hollander of the time of
Rembrandt. This couple had eleven children, of whom ten
lived to maturity. It is well to note, as a sign of the times,
that all but two of these children received Biblical names ; the
two eldest only, Henry and Cyrus, being named in a worldly
sense, while the others received names respectively after characters
in the Old and New Testaments — Isaac, John, Elijah, Asher,
and Jabez, along with Mary, Lydia, and Elizabeth. My father,
Asher Brown, his middle name being that of a maternal rela-
tive, was the eighth in the order of birth.

It is necessary to convey some idea of the region of country
into which my father was born, as well as of his social environ-
ment, both of which shaped his character and professional destiny.
It is probable that the few houses, painted either dingy red or
white, which stretched along the road at the base of the southern
end of the Orange mountain, had no name previous to the
Declaration of Independence, a document which rendered its
author the most famous man of his time throughout the country,

* Edward Eggleston.

LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

As a matter of fact, the few houses thus honoured could scarcely
be called a village ; there was no blacksmith's shop, no grocery
and dry-goods store, no tavern furnishing a lodging-place for
wayfarers, or a bar for toper or politician, and no church : its
devout inhabitants, chiefly Presbyterian, generally walked, on
Sundays, to the church of that denomination at Springfield, the
settlement that gave its name to the township in which Jefferson
Village was situated. The only public building in the village
was a schoolhouse, a building which, as the centre of a hamlet,
but symbolising a very different sentiment from that of its
mediaeval analogue, the feudal castle, in Europe, forms the nucleus
institution of American primitive life. Distant from the turnpike
or toll road running between the two large towns of Morristown
and Newark, the former at this time with two hundred and fifty
inhabitants, and the latter with one hundred and forty-one
houses and a population of one thousand, Jefferson Village lacked
the usual stimulants of trade and travel which beget ' business,'
the source of all progress in America ; and accordingly for a
long time it remained ' slow ' and deficient in local enterprise.
To atone for this deficiency, however, Jefferson Village possessed
picturesque and moral advantages. Situated in a valley, formed
on the west by the Orange mountain, and to the east by the
opposite ridge of high ground declining towards Newark and
the sea-level, it afforded for the lover of nature the centre of a
quiet, rural landscape, not everywhere to be met with. Generally
of one story, each house was shaded by a pine, willow, or black
walnut tree, while there was attached to it a garden for vegetables,
and a door-yard containing a grass-plot and flowers ; in front,
close by the road, there usually stood a well-curb, with an ' old
oaken bucket ' suspended to a ' sweep,' by which any thirsty

ASPECT OF THE COUNTRY. 5

wayfarer, if he chose, could help himself to a drink. The house
in which my father was born was built midway up the mountain ;
below it, on the opposite side of the road, came the barn, an
apple orchard, cherry and other fruit trees, corn and wheat fields,
meadow land, and a stretch of woods beyond ; behind it were
the sheds covering the oven and wash-house. The woods
reached to the top of the mountain, where the eye ranged over
a vast expanse of lowland, consisting of nearly unbroken forest ;
a spire on the horizon beyond a blue expanse of water indicated
the site of New York City. A fair wind brought the boom of
a cannon from the fort on Governor's Island, or a salute from
a passing man-of-war, the only noises that reached the ear and
reminded one of the great metropolis. A few steps back of
the mountain to the west lay a wilderness, as it probably existed
at the time of Hendrik Hudson, a primitive forest abounding
with deer and other wild animals, and traversed by streams alive
with trout. Game was plentiful — partridges, quail, woodcock,
rabbits, squirrels of every species, raccoons, and foxes ; while
occasionally a hungry bear that had trespassed on the farmyards
in the vicinity would be tracked to its den and shot. One of
these incidents gave the name of ' Bear Lane ' to a mountain
road near the old homestead. The charm of wild solitude, the
perfect repose of nature ' undisturbed by the voice of man,'
which my father early enjoyed in his frequent rambles over
this mountain, had much to do with shaping his taste for art.
Such was the outward world in which he lived, and, it may be
added, the school in which nature was his only teacher. We
now turn to the human nature of Jefferson Village, likewise
of a primitive sort.

American villages in colonial times resembled each other

LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

in one particular — every man was obliged to get his living
according to his aptitudes ; the chief end of man in all was
to ensure the welfare of himself and family to the best of his
ability and opportunity. Nobody profited by inherited capital
or superior rank ; if anybody possessed money enough to
buy the land he cultivated — he was comparatively rich, and
that was all ; but he had to labour like the rest, and derive
his support, as well as added wealth, mainly from the crops
he raised. Mechanics, those who had learned a trade, car-
penters, masons, and the like, bartered their labour for produce,
while all sold both crops and labour at the best rates wherever
they could find a market for them. Mutual assistance in
other respects depended on neighbourly goodwill and the general
community of interests. Everybody, in sum, derived his
ideas of the common or public good from the cardinal principle
of self-support, which principle, in the political development
of the country, finally gave birth to the theory of self-
government.

But it took time for the theory thus generated to make
headway. Political conceptions in those days emerged out
of practical considerations ; nobody, except closet thinkers,
undertook to solve social or political problems metaphysically.
' Citizens were inquisitive, seeking the causes of existing insti-
tutions in the laws of nature. Yet they controlled their
speculative turn by practical judgment. . . . They were
adventurous, penetrating, and keen in the pursuit of gain. . . .
Nearly every man was struggling to make his own way in
the world and his own fortune, and yet, individually and as
a body, they were public-spirited. . . , They unconsciously
developed the theory of an independent representative com-

HOW NEWS WAS OBTAINED.

munity.'* Self-government — the delegation of personal rights
to a representative, and considered as an abstract principle —
really arose out of the slow and gradual comprehension by
the people of the burdens of English taxation, coupled with
the pretentions of the English Government to collect taxes
by force, .In Jefferson Village, before journalistic days, news
of English encroachments of this sort spread in various ways.
A neighbour would take a load of hay to market at Newark,
and on his return home would tell what he had heard about
the Stamp Act in his talks with others like himself, while
standing by his waggon awaiting a customer. Another would
encounter somebody who had walked over to Springfield and
seen a passenger by the coach from New York, who had told
him about resistance to duties on tea. Generally speaking,
the most news was obtained on Sundays at the church door
before meeting began, or, again, from the minister, who
would communicate it privately, unless, when of great im-
portance, he stated it from the pulpit. ' In the absence of
newspapers and of travel, the Sabbath was the day for hearing
and telling the news, and the meeting-house became a sort
of central bazaar where local gossip could be interchanged.
The church thus became a club, as the door of the meeting-
house served as a bulletin-board. It was a club, too, from
which exclusion placed an inhabitant of the town under a
ban, and made of him a pariah. 'f Whatever political dis-
cussion ensued always grew out of the effect of the news on
common interests. On the promulgation of the Declaration

* Bancroft.

f Three Episodes of Massachusetts History, by Charles Francis Adams, page

75i-

LIFE OF A. B. DURANB.

of Independence, the popular mind was thus well prepared to
accept and act in accordance with its telling abstractions.

After local politics came religious questions. Here the
metaphysical powers of the uncultivated human mind had
full swing. The parson was now omnipotent. 'In 1735
Gilbert Tennent preached at Amboy (a New Jersey settlement
only a few miles from Jefferson Village) on the comforting
and encouraging topic of the " Necessity of Religious Violence
to Durable Happiness." .... The spiritual shepherds were
wont to feed their flocks with food abounding in strength
rather than sweetness. . . . The religious atmosphere of the
middle of the last century was dark with the heavy clouds of
doctrine and theology. Foreordination, predestination, election,
and eternal damnation went hand in hand with free agency.
The effort to reconcile the conflicting dogmas provoked
laboured sermons from the pulpit and prolonged arguments
and discussions in the farmhouse, field, and shop.'* A few
years later various civilising influences had modified this spirit;
but there was still enough of it. Bigotry in Jefferson Village
provoked the same moral virulence as in similar communities
in New England. Intolerance, characteristic of the epoch in
old England, prevailed as in the mother country.^ The
local intellect was a good deal stimulated by religious defini-
tions and by criticisms of lax or refractory believers. A
manuscript on foolscap paper, fifteen pages long, found among
old family papers, in reply to some one who had questioned
his orthodoxy, shows that one of my uncles had to prove
thus elaborately that he was all right on the doctrine of

* See The Story of an Old Farm, by Andrew D. Mellick, page 213.

See A History of England in the Eighteenth Century, by W. E. H. Lecky, vol. i.

LIFE IN JEFFERSON VILLAGE.

Election. But theological rancour and disputes caused no
disturbance in the Durand household, and because, probably,
the heads of it gave them no countenance. My grandfather
and grandmother, both of equable temper, were averse to any
heated manifestation of feeling or opinion. The remarkably
even disposition of their sons in after life, their ever kindly
ways, the absence of guile in them, and a singularly honest,
unworldly devotion to their respective occupations, were un-
doubtedly due to this parental trait.

Natural instincts and emotions cannot be kept down or
suppressed by conventional religious or moral theories ; it is,
after all, through the free play of the former that civilisation
makes the most headway. However humble a community may
be, the members of it, men and women, old and young, will
enjoy themselves in some way. It behoves us, accordingly,
to glance at the sports and pastimes of people in Jefferson
Village in these primitive days.

As to pleasure, if such a term can be applied to early
American life, it was chiefly connected with work. The
women held quilting parties, spent afternoons at each other's
houses in the intervals between washing, baking, and ironing,
and talked and gossiped over their needles. ' In addition,' says
the author of The Story of an Old Farm, ' they made their own
garments and many of those of the men ; they spun their own
yarn, wove the family linen and woollen goods, smoked and
cured meats, dipped tallow candles, brewed beer, and made soap.
Their pleasures were limited, being confined mostly to quilting
frolics, apple-paring bees, and husking and killing frolics. The
latter were when the men met at each other's houses to do the
hog-killing when winter set in.' Young girls would assist in

io LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

making rag carpets, and engage in spinning contests to see who
could spin the most yarn in the shortest time. Husbands and
fathers, as at the present day, were so weary when the sun set
as not to care much about recreation of any kind ; to them
pleasure consisted of repose. The young men hunted and
fished, according to season and opportunity. Riding behind a
fast horse in a gig or waggon was one of their pastimes ; not
to take anybody's dust, especially if accompanied by a sweet-
heart, was their great pride. It is needless to state that
' sparking ' went on according to natural laws and sympathies ;
camp-meetings, revivals, and even prayer-meetings were quite
as often attended to see the girls and escort them home as for
religious purposes. Music, generally sacred, brought together
the young people of both sexes for singing-school practice in
the meeting-house. In the winter, when sleighing was good,
there were occasionally ' straw-rides,' in waggon-bodies set on
runners, to some remote tavern. ' Perhaps it is a string of
twenty sleighs, with as many couples, gliding through the frozen
landscape by moonlight, with the silvery ringing of a thousand
bells and shouts of merry laughter, ending with a supper and a
dance, and then home again before the day breaks.'*

Beverages, food, and the cooking of it, are important national
details, and must not be omitted in this sketch of American
village life in colonial times. Beverages may be classed as
natural and unnatural in the sense of local or imported products.
In Jefferson Village, where the well-known ' Harrison ' and
' Canfield ' apples grew, out of which the famous Newark cider
was made, this was the principal natural beverage. Add to
this ' apple-jack,' distilled from cider and affording an excellent
* Forty Tears in America, by T. L. Nichols, M.D.

BEVERAGES. n

alcoholic drink. Root-beer, a decoction of sassafras and other
herbs mixed with molasses and water, formed another local mild
drink, to which add elderberry wine and cherry brandy. The
principal unnatural or imported beverage consisted of ' Kill-
devil,' or New England rum, distilled from molasses, obtained
in the West Indies by New England traders ; this ' tipple of
the poor throughout the colonies,'* formed one of the great
exports of the so-called ' land of steady habits.' It was largely
consumed everywhere, especially by farmers in summer when
harvesting their crops. It may be added in this connexion that,
in the national sin of intemperance out of which untold tragedies
have arisen, the role of New England rum f as a moral ingredient
in the psychology of American character is important. \ Of
other foreign drinks — except, of course, tea and coffee — wine,
the beverage of the luxurious, was rarely found ; few probably
tasted it except at the communion-table.

* The Story of an Old Farm — applied, however, to Jamaica rum.

j" ' From the molasses was distilled rum, which was in turn shipped to Africa
and exchanged for slaves, the slaves being brought out in return voyages and sold
in the South.' — The French War and the Revolution, W. M. Sloane, page 124.

\ ' The cheapness of liquors prevented them from being measured in taking a
glass. . . . Treating, drinking in company and in crowds, and this free dealing
with cheap liquors, led great numbers of people into habits of drunkenness, many
of them men of the highest ability and promise. There were drunken lawyers,
drunken doctors, drunken members of Congress, drunken ministers, drunkards of
all stages.' — Forty Tears in America, by T. L. Nichols, M.D. As late as 1832
a friend and correspondent of my father writes from Pittsburg : ' With a single
exception, I perceive nothing either in regard to the condition of the place or the
character of the people which would render a residence here at all uncomfortable
to me. The exception alluded to is the intemperate habits of a very considerable
portion of the inhabitants, comprising persons of all ranks, grades, and conditions;
but their manners in this respect are mending, and I am informed that already
a great improvement is visible in the faces of those who have heretofore lived,
moved, and had their being in Monongahela whiskey.'

i2 LIFE OF J. B. DURAND.

Cooking and food must be considered together. Cooking,
in those days, was of the simplest kind, boiling, baking, stewing,
and frying — the last the most universal, because it was the easiest
and readiest mode of preparing a hot dish at short notice. The
good housewife of that day was as busy indoors as her husband
was out of doors, and had no time, if she had the talent, to study
gastronomic compounds or processes. With a good stock of
lard in the house, kept over from pig-killing time in the fall,
she could, with very little preparation, fry a piece of ham, and
soon complete a bill of fare for an unexpected guest with bread,
pie, and cake, baked regularly each week, and of which, in-
cluding preserved fruit, there was always an ample stock on hand.
Next comes kind and quality of material for cooking. Fresh
beef was rarely attainable, mutton and veal oftener, and of course
pig-flesh always in some form. ' Occasionally fresh meat was
had, as it was the custom of farmers, when they slaughtered a
" critter," to distribute joints and pieces among their neighbours
for miles around, relying for pay on a return courtesy.' The
basis of alimentary supplies, however, in the way of animal food,
consisted of pork. If not in the house, this was always pro-
curable in various forms at a neighbouring store. When a hog,
fattened at home during the summer, was killed in the fall, fresh
spare-ribs lasted for many days, sausages for weeks, and salt pork
eternally. In winter, communication with the rest of the world
was entirely cut off ; the rivers and streams were frozen, and
the roads more or less blocked with snow. It was accordingly
necessary in the fall, before navigation closed, to lay in stocks
of salt mackerel, dried codfish, smoked beef and ham, with one
or two barrels of pork according to size of family. Potatoes,
carrots, and beans, with apples fresh or dried, and preserved

CAUSE OF DTSPEPSIA. 13

cherries, constituted the principal supply of winter vegetables
and fruits ; these, with pumpkins and squash, were always avail-
able. Milk, eggs, and chickens, somewhat tough on account of
an exclusively corn-meal diet, with buckwheat cakes, dough-nuts,
crullers, apple sauce, pumpkin pies, and sweetmeats, constituted
the luxuries and delicacies of the winter table. In sum, for five
months of the year, the breakfast, dinner, and tea, for every
family, everywhere, rich or poor, consisted chiefly of salt food
and hot cakes, soaked with lard, butter, or gravy. When spring
came, and with it a warm, balmy atmosphere that stirred the
blood, it was both theory and practice to purge and purify it
by regular doses of Epsom salts, boneset tea, or sulphur and
molasses. This system of cooking, feeding, and purging, not
confined to New Jersey, extended more or less over the entire
country. Is it any wonder that people were carried off by
bilious fevers or affected with scorbutic maladies, which then
abounded, and that stomachs were impaired by drugs, pills, and
indigestion — in short, that dyspepsia became, as it is rightfully
called, the national disease !

One more housekeeping detail, which greatly added to its
cares and toil, was the difficulty of procuring ' help.' It is
needless to state that, after a hundred years of the country's
development, and in spite of the modern improvements due to
steam and electricity which have rendered domestic service less
toilsome, this difficulty still exists. In those days, it was not
easier to obtain a servant, a ' good girl ' as is said, or ' the girls,
as women servants call each other in American households,'*
than at the present day. The household of a farmer who had
a daughter fared pretty well until she was taken off by marriage
* Democracy, the well-known novel.

1 4 LIFE OF A. B. DURJND.

or death. If he had no daughter, and could obtain one of a
neighbour who had two, and she was willing to ' hire out,' as
was commonly the case, he was fortunate. This custom benefited
the girl, for she was regarded by the family into which she
entered as a friend on an equal footing ; ' she assisted in doing
the housework, associated on terms of perfect equality with her
employer's family, and considered that she was conferring an
obligation, as indeed she was.'* She merely served an apprentice-
ship with persons who were interested in her, which apprentice-
ship fitted her all the better for subsequent duties on getting
a husband. Another peculiarity of village life must not be
overlooked. The dressmaker, travelling around from house to
house, conveyed the news and gossip of the neighbourhood, and
was always welcome ; while the school teacher, billeted on this
or that family, was ever a welcome guest.

It remains to give a final glimpse of Jefferson Village as it
appeared topographically in its palmy days. On the foregoing
pages the reader may have obtained some idea of its primitive
state; about 1815, after the conclusion of the war with England,
Jefferson Village had grown or ' progressed ' with the rest of the
country. It then numbered over thirty families, and was entitled
to a post-office, which would have given it a certain national
status. Application was accordingly made to the Government
for this important adjunct of social development. In proof of
the right of the people to make this application, my uncle
engraved a map of the village, showing the sites of its various
dwellings, ' institutions,' and streets. On this map appear
c Great Maple Swamp,' ' Little Maple Swamp,' ' Turtle Lake,'
' Factory Pond,' ' Crooked Brook,' and the east and west
* Forty Tears in dftierica, by T. L. Nichols, M.D.

THE VILLAGE MAP. 15

branches of the Rahway river, winding away to the south on
the two sides of ' the Mountain.' There is a factory, a saw-
mill, and two mines — supposed, according to tradition, to have
been dug for copper, a meeting-house called ' Babel Chapel,'
and a fortification, if a name goes for anything, called ' Bom
Fort.' The names of the occupants of the dwellings are given,
among which are ' Captain Smith,' ' Captain Sam,' 'Aunt Rachel,'
and 'Neighbour Joseph;' also of the streets, which indicate a
satiric vein, such as ' Dominie Lane ' — where the preacher lived
who held forth on Sundays in Babel Chapel and wove rag carpets
at home on week-days, ' Grub Street,' ' Heathen Street,' and,
lastly, ' Necessity Corner,' where the school-house was placed.
Whether or not there was too much of a waggish humour in
the delineation of this map — as, for example, the names of the
streets, to which even tradition bears no witness, or whether the
people did not vote as now according to the dictation of ' bosses,'
or whether the postal department did not approve of trifling
with serious matters — it is certain that its mines, its lake, its
pond, its swamps, its ' institutions ' and sawmill, all having
disappeared like its old tenements and left scarcely a wrack
behind, had no effect on the authorities. Jefferson Village is
gone. Thanks to a land speculator of these days, who bestowed
the name of Maplewood on a railway station built at his own
expense near the village mainly for personal benefit, and which
commemorates nothing but bygone maple swamps, Jefferson
Village is scarcely more than an historical myth.

Such is the character of the primitive community in which
my father was born. But he was not of it. None of its ways
excited thought in his breast, or prompted and governed his
action. Not being a rugged boy, as well as the youngest, and

LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

probably petted by his mother, he was not called upon to assist
his brothers in working the farm, or to take any part in the
village amusements and social gatherings. His aims centered
on the mechanical pursuits of his father, as he watched these
going on in a shop adjoining the dwelling. Out of doors, his
pleasure-ground consisted of the ' illimitable bounds of nature,'
where he roamed at will over the fields and in the woods,
enjoying perfect freedom physically and mentally, and with no
society but the creatures of his imagination. Extremely diffident,
as he said of himself, in his boyhood, he would hide behind a tree
or bush at the approach of a person or vehicle. Habits of this
kind, together with the gentle ministrations of his mother, and
the freedom from moral restrictions which beset a boy ever told
that he has to make his own way in the world, furnish the key
to my father's capacity and conduct in after life.

CHAPTER II.

Autobiographical Fragment — Character of Parents — School-days — The Grammar
Machine — Apprenticed to an Engraver — Partnership with his Master — First
Work — Engraves 'The Declaration of Independence' by Trumbull — Dis-
solution of Partnership — Trumbull and his Gallery.

THE foregoing pages afford a glimpse of the boyhood
and environment of the future artist ; we now turn
to more precise statements, as recorded in the following
autobiographical fragment, written at the suggestion of a valued
friend, Mr. F. W. Edmonds, a banker and a fellow- artist of
reputation in the American school of art.

' My much esteemed Friend,

' In compliance with your request, frequently and
earnestly urged, I at length commence the work of putting
down some memoranda in the shape of an autobiography.
Rousseau says in one of his letters, Quoique j'aime a parler
de moi, je riaime pas a en parler avec tout le monde; the plain
English of which is, " Though I may like to speak of myself,
I do not like to do so with everybody." This is emphatically
my feeling ; and from my knowledge of your frankness and
straightforward character, I am satisfied that, of all my friends,
you are the one most likely to appreciate my motives in this
matter, and especially to exculpate me from aught that might
suggest an unworthy display of egotism. My present purpose
is merely to give you what may be termed a chapter of

1 8 LIFE OF A. B. DURJND.

incidents, and probably, after that, I may from time to time
carry out to some extent their respective details.

'I was born on the 21st day of August, 1796, at a small
village in the township of Springfield, county of Essex, state
of New Jersey. My father was a watchmaker and silver-
smith by profession — at least, these were his principal occupa-
tions. He possessed, however, mechanical talent of great
versatility, and could turn his hand as occasion required to
such diverse trades that it would be difficult to say what he
could not do, so far as the means were within his reach.
When a young man, he followed the trade of a cooper for
a time. An uncle on my mother's side stated in my hearing
that he had seen my father actually manufacture from the
rough nineteen barrels in one day. He often employed
himself in this way within my recollection, making for family
use whatever article was required of this description. In
masonry, also, he was equally skilful ; he would construct
an oven, build a chimney, or plaster a wall equal to the best.
I believe that there is still in the possession of some member
of our family a brass gun which he manufactured entire,
obliged as he was to make the tools himself. Besides being
a universal mechanic, he was a farmer on a small scale : but
for repairing clocks and watches he was unequalled in the
country round about ; his fame in this respect was well
established, and he was constantly pressed with business,
disordered timekeepers being sent to him from distances of
twenty and thirty miles by partial owners who were unwilling
to entrust them to others of the same profession. A more
industrious man never lived. Yet with all his industry and
resources he was unable to amass anything beyond the means

AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 19

for a comfortable living, owing chiefly to extremely moderate
charges for his labour and the maintenance of a large family
of children.*

' My mother was in all respects a suitable helpmate. She
was like him in industry and aptness ; there was no require-
ment in household economy that she was not equal to ; and
for uniform, steady virtues as a wife, mother, and Christian,
more than fifty years of unremitting toil, with many a painful
trial, bear witness.

' But I will not detain you with details of my honoured
parents further than to add that my father was a descendant
of the Huguenots, driven by persecution to this country at
the time of the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, and, as
tradition says, a French surgeon. -J" My mother's maiden name
was Meyer, of Dutch origin, direct from the early settlers of
New Jersey. \ I claim no ancestry at the venerable hands of
John Bull. I am the sixth of seven brothers, and, if I may

* Furthermore, 'He acted as a moral counsellor to his neighbours. Tem-
perate in opinion, cool in judgment, and inflexibly honest, they could confidently
consult him in all their difficulties. Though a plain country farmer, he was not
indifferent to literature, judging by his books, for he was a subscriber to Gordon's
History of the Establishment of the United States, and he possessed! the large folio
Brown's Bible, an important publication of that day. His shop was a resort of
prominent well-to-do men of the vicinity, where they discussed current political
and social questions, serving as an intellectual exchange suiting the primitive habits
of those colonial times. At the outbreak of the Revolution, our artist's father
enlisted in the army, but the authorities, discovering his skill in mechanics, sent
him back to make bayonets, the troops being sadly deficient in arms. In one of
General Washington's reconnoitering rides on the mountain behind the Durand
farm, his spy-glass was broken and was given to the farmer to mend.' — Memorial
Address, by Daniel Huntington, President of the Century Club.

f At the time this was written my father did not know the genealogy of
his family.

% My grandfather died in 1813, prematurely, owing to a severe strain in

20 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

judge by earliest recollections, the feebleness of my constitu-
tion was in proportion to the order of succession. I remember
a keen sense of insignificance compared with the rest of my
brothers. I was, indeed, a delicate child, and, in consequence
of this, received a greater share of maternal solicitude, which
circumstance has exercised an important influence on my
feelings and conduct in all the vicissitudes of life.

' At seven years of age I was sent to the village public
school, where I was instructed in reading, writing, and
arithmetic, a little geography, and the whole of the West-
minster Catechism.* This instruction continued for five or
six years, often interrupted, however, by the expiration of
the terms of the itinerant teachers by whom the school was

felling a tree on the mountain behind his house. My grandmother survived
him nineteen years.

* Grammar must be added, although he does not mention it. The text-book
used by him in this school, decorated on the cover with a pen-and-ink scroll of
leaves surrounding his monogram and bearing this inscription, 'Bought July 8,
1 8 1 1 ,' is in my possession. In mentioning his studies, it is probable that he
purposely omitted this one because, as he often stated, he learned all the grammar
he knew from a machine constructed by his brother Cyrus. This machine, the
idea of which his brother got from an acquaintance, rendered the abstract rules of
grammar and the definitions of the parts of speech intelligible by objective means,
through a combination of mirrors, slides, wheels, and other mechanical parapher-
nalia, so manipulated as to show the reason why a pronoun should represent a
noun, why the verb should express the idea of action, why the conjunction should
indicate the link of connexion between words and phrases, and so on. For
example, the reflection of an object in a mirror denoted that a word called a
pronoun stood for the object or thing called a noun, the necessities of language
demanding a term conveying the sense of that substitution. It is sufficient to
state that this machine made clear the meaning of the abstruse words, indicative,
subjunctive, potential, and infinitive, with the terms denoting the variations of the
moods and tenses, by concrete images. It does not seem to have been adopted
outside of the village or family circle of students. Its ruins still existed in my
boyhood in the attic of the old homestead, afterwards burnt.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 21

supplied. Intervals of several weeks often occurred, which
afforded me a good deal of time to indulge certain tastes for
outdoor diversions, as well as for sundry operations in my
father's shop. The latter consisted chiefly of the manufacture
of various metal and other trinkets, such as sleeve-buttons,
arrow-heads, powder-horns, bows, and cross-guns, and, finally,
the most absorbing one — engraving on copper plates — and
which fixed my destiny.

' My father and two of my elder brothers were accustomed
to engrave monograms and other devices on the various articles
manufactured by them, and in this art I was early initiated. But
I was not content with this, having shown some skill in drawing
animals as well as the human figure, excited to do so by my
admiration for the woodcuts in school books, and by the copper-
plate engravings that fell in my way, especially by the tickets or
cards of watchmakers placed in watch-cases, designed with one
or two emblematical figures, and again by the simple vignettes
on bank-notes. On examining these with a strong magnifier, I
could not refrain from trying to imitate their, to me, wonderful
mechanism. Never shall I forget the joy I experienced on
finding, after a few trials, that my efforts were, in a degree,
successful. In these attempts I was not only obliged to make
my own tools, but I had also to invent them, there being no
one at hand to instruct me. Gravers I could easily manufacture
and use, but I discovered, in the course of examining prints,
that there were lines and dots produced by some other means :
through diligent study and research, I at length found that they
were the result of a distinct process called etching. But I could
not reach the secrets of this art so as to make it practically
useful. I merely ascertained that the plate was covered with a

22 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

peculiar varnish of wax, and that the lines were traced through
this with a needle and corroded into the metal by aquafortis.
I was told that it was white wax, and I made use of it, but, not
succeeding, I abandoned the effort and confined myself to the
graver. I have still in my possession one or two specimens of
these juvenile productions, and even now I cannot look at them
without a degree of surprise at the tolerable imitation of etching
in rendering foliage and the ground, such appropriate objects
in nature for the etching-needle.

' Among the many visitors to my father's shop, there were
occasionally men of taste and intelligence, who, on seeing my
efforts, agreed that he would do well to place me with some
distinguished engraver without loss of time. One gentleman in
particular, Mr. Enos Smith, who had lived in New York and
was himself an amateur miniature-painter, took especial interest
in the matter. He accordingly volunteered to recommend the
said artist, and undertook the necessary negotiations and arrange-
ments for my pupilage. At length my father consented
reluctantly to part with me, in case terms could be made
consistent with his means. After months of consideration by
all concerned, my amateur friend proposed that I should call
on Mr. W. S. Leney, then the most prominent engraver in the
city of New York. The time was soon fixed for the journey.
Accompanied by two of my brothers, I proceeded to Newark,
where we were joined by my patron, as I may call him, and
for whom I had conceived a strong attachment. Thence we
proceeded to New York, walking to Elizabeth-town Point, and
from there to the city by water in a periauger. We arrived in
the evening, and put up at an old filthy hotel near the Battery,
kept by a Jerseyman of our acquaintance. Never shall I forget

AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 23

the feeling of desolation which came over me on this my first
visit to New York ! I was then fifteen years old, and had never
passed a day away from home — or, at least, from among my
relatives. But still more vivid were the impressions of the
following day, when, on walking up Broadway, I paused in
astonishment at what were to me the splendid printshops in the
vicinity of the City Hall ! At no subsequent period in my life,
even in the great picture-galleries of Europe, did I experience
such profound admiration of works of art as was then inspired
by this display of coloured engravings ! I could have lingered
and gazed at them for hours. But time was short, and we were
obliged to hasten on to the upper end of the Bowery, where
Mr. Leney lived. I remember continuing up Broadway to the
vicinity of Grand Street, and then over hills and fields to St.
Patrick's Cathedral in Prince Street, the walls of which were
partially erected in the midst of vacant lots. On reaching the
Bowery we were soon at Mr. Leney's house, and with what
trepidation did I present my plates to him for examination !
How gratified at his commendation, but how saddened and
disappointed on hearing that he required one thousand dollars
for the premium of admission to his atelier, and stipulated
another condition, that the expenses of the term of my appren-
ticeship should be borne by myself!

' These conditions were so far beyond my father's means that
all further negotiations were abandoned, and we returned home.
But my zealous friend did not stop here : some months after
this he applied to Mr. Peter Maverick, then the most prominent
writing engraver in the country, who had removed from New
York to the vicinity of Newark, N.J., within seven miles from ,
my native place. Mr. Maverick consented to receive me, on

24 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

condition that I would " find " myself and pay for my board at
the expiration of my apprenticeship, at the rate of one hundred
dollars per annum, agreeing to take me into his own family.
These terms were practicable, and accordingly, just entering my
seventeenth year, I took my seat in his engraving-room, regularly
apprenticed to him for a term of five years. His residence was
about a mile from Newark, near the Passaic river, a situation
which suited my temperament, and so satisfactory was it that I
may truly say that the first eighteen months of my apprenticeship
were the happiest of my life.

'My career as engraver thus commenced in October 1812.
My first essay was a copy in lead pencil of an engraved head
three or four inches long, the lines of which I carefully imitated.
The effort was satisfactory to Mr. Maverick, and he immediately
set me to work on a copper-plate, a piece of lettering consisting
of an old title-page to 'The Pilgrim s Progress. Mr. Maverick
considered my execution of this task equivalent to one year's
practice under the direction of a master, and from that moment
gave me work to do on plates for his customers ; the first one
was a series of illustrations of Calmet's Dictionary of the Bible,
a few of which contained portions of landscape. I remember
with what delight I applied myself to etching and " touching up "
these subjects. My progress was rapid. I soon surpassed my
shopmates, and became the chief assistant of my master.'

This autobiographical sketch here terminates abruptly. It
was never resumed, mainly for lack of time, and, again, because
the writing of it was an irksome task. It is sufficient to state
that the pupil soon surpassed his master, many of the works
bearing Maverick's name having been chiefly, and some entirely,

FIRST ORIGINAL ENGRAVINGS. 25

executed by the pupil. During this apprenticeship his principal
employment consisted in making copies for New York publishers
of English engravings, illustrative of editions of Shakespeare and
other poets, vignette designs for bank-notes, which then began
to circulate freely, encyclopaedia plates, diplomas, and other
miscellaneous productions. I find no example or record of
original work done by him during his apprenticeship, which
terminated in 18 17, on becoming the partner of Maverick.

During the period of his partnership, which lasted about
three years, the young engraver's reputation increased to such
an extent as to render him principal in the firm, instead of
subordinate, and therefore its mainstay. The business of the
firm consisted almost entirely of that brought to it by his
talent. Finally a dissolution of the firm took place, owing to
the following circumstance, thus recounted in Mr. Huntington's
Memorial Address: —

' His first original work in engraving, when, instead of
copying the work of others, he engraved directly from painting,
was the head of a beggar, known as " Old Pat," a painting by
Waldo, and now belonging to the Boston Athenaeum, and usually
called " A Beggar with a Bone." Durand's engraving was so
well executed as to call forth the admiration of Colonel Trum-
bull, who had, about that time, tried to engage James Heath
of London to engrave his " Declaration of Independence," but
who had declined to do so on account of the extravagant
charge. He then applied to Durand, who was willing to
undertake it for three thousand dollars, half the amount which
Heath had demanded. Maverick wished to be joined in the
commission, but Trumbull wisely demurred. Maverick
objected, was offended, and the partnership was dissolved.

26 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

Durand was now his own master, and gladly received the com-
mission. He was chiefly engaged on this large plate for three
years, and the result was the masterpiece we know so well.
In it he has preserved the likenesses with great fidelity, combining
a free and vigorous use of the lines with a broad and rich effect
of light and shade most attractive to the eye. It established his

reputation as a master of the art Trumbull was greatly

pleased. In a letter to the Marquis de Lafayette, dated New
York, October 20th, 1823, he writes: "I have sent to you a
small case containing a proof impression of a print which has
been engraved here from my painting of the ' Declaration of
Independence ' by a young engraver, born in this vicinity, and
now only twenty-six years old. This work is wholly American,
even to the paper and printing, a circumstance which renders
it popular here, and will make it a curiosity to you, who knew
America when she had neither painters nor engravers nor arts
of any kind, except those of stern utility." '

The publication of this engraving established the artistic
position of the engraver. Colonel Trumbull entrusted him with
the commission in 1820, and the engraving was finished, printed,
and published in 1823. The printing was done by an Eng-
lishman named Neale, imported for that purpose by Colonel
Trumbull, there being no one in the country qualified to do
that class of work. The plate was very large, and the giving
of so important a commission to an engraver so young was
hazardous, to say the least ; but so was everything connected
with the enterprise — especially the procuring of subscribers by
Colonel Trumbull himself among people who were not wealthy
and indifferent to art. My father reaped the most advantage
from it, for it ensured his prosperity. Always, when alluding

WBHHBBBMKKBKBB8R

COLONEL JOHN TRUMBULL.

Reproduction of the Engraving made from the Portrait painted hs Waldo
and Jewett, in the Trumbull Collection at New Haven.

.JJU8MUAT MHO[ J3WOJO0

AMERICAN ACADEMY OF THE FINE ARTS. 27

to his early career, he spoke gratefully of the eminent painter
who thus started him in life. Besides employing him to engrave
the ' Declaration of Independence,' Colonel Trumbull painted
his portrait, and their relations were intimate. I dwell on this
circumstance because, in later years, on the establishment of the
National Academy of Design by the body of artists which had
then become sufficiently large to take charge of their profes-
sional interests, and who were dissatisfied with the regulations
of the American Academy of the Fine Arts, of which Colonel
Trumbull was the progenitor and President, he sided with his
brethren.'* Colonel Trumbull died in New York, November

* ' In the local history of art, Colonel Trumbull's connexion with the
American Academy of the Fine Arts, and the part he played in opposing the
formation of the National Academy of Design, are of interest. Full particulars of
the strife are given in Dunlap's History of the Arts and Design, and in the Historic
Annals of the National Academy of Design, by T. S. Cummings. Both of these
writers were his antagonists. Dunlap, in his Life of Trumbull, carries his spite
too far. It would pass for malice were his statements not more amusing than
convincing. In trying to convey the idea that Trumbull was ungrateful to his
early friend, West, that he was more English than American at heart, and that in
the treatment of his important battle-piece he was only commemorating the
triumph of Great Britain, Dunlap overshot the mark. The truth is, that in
his connexion with the American Academy of the Fine Arts, of which he was
one of the organizers and the President, Trumbull was trying to make water run
up-hill. The difficulty between him and the artists who seceded from that
institution was not so much due to him as to a condition of things beyond his
control. The plan of the American Academy comprised a permanent, as well
as periodical exhibitions, lectures, schools, library, and other agencies in art
education, copied from a foreign model — that of the long-established Royal
Academy in England — and not adapted to this country, or manageable by
directors taken from the non-professional classes. The public of that time cared
very little about art ; there were few artists, and the judgment of stockholders,
whose authority in the institution grew out of the money they paid for their
shares, did not fulfil the same ends as the more intelligent patronage of a king
and a cultivated aristocracy. The mistake Colonel Trumbull made was in sup-
posing that a kindred institution could be at once established in an entirely new

28 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

ioth, 1843, a g e d eighty-seven years and five months, leaving
a collection of his works at New Haven, containing, principally,
his full-length portrait of Washington, to whom he was an
aide-de-camp during the war, the small originals of the large
paintings now in the Capitol at Washington, and a series of
miniature heads of the eminent men and women of the Revo-
lution, with a portrait of himself by Waldo, also that, of his
wife painted by himself — all of inestimable value in connexion
with the commencement of the American school of art, to say
nothing of their being priceless souvenirs of a distinguished
patriot. In anticipation of his death he had negotiated with
the trustees of Yale College, New Haven, for a permanent
resting-place for his works, together with a burial-place for his
own and his wife's bodies ; the main conditions were an annuity
for the rest of his life and a gallery for his works, with, under-
neath it, the place of interment. These conditions were ac-
cepted ; the gallery was constructed and Colonel Trumbull
himself arranged his collection to his own satisfaction. At one
end of the gallery hung his full-length portrait of Washington ;
under this the portrait of himself by Waldo, placed there after
his death, and that of his wife by his own hand, while in the
ground under the floor reposed their bodies. His directions in
relation to his burial were, c Place me at the feet of my great
master.' Long after the completion of this monument, con-
taining so many inviolable records of the past, the Yale School

country.' — John Trumbull, by J. Durand, published in the American Art Review.
In this connexion it may be added that on the dissolution of the American
Academy of Fine Arts, its collection of works of art was offered for sale, with the
privilege to the purchaser of selecting for 1 500 dollars any picture he pleased.
Among them was the fine full-length portrait of Benjamin West by Sir Thomas
Lawrence, now in Hartford.

<?HE TRUMBULL GALLERY. 29

for the Fine Arts was established, and it was thought best to
transfer the Trumbull collection, with the remains of the artist
and his wife, to that building and place them under its founda-
tions. Here they are, the paintings in an upper story, the
annexe to a general exhibition of miscellaneous works, and the
remains of the painter and his wife underground in the base-
ment beneath. The reasons given for the transfer of these
relics were, that ' the building which contained them was damp,
the pictures were getting injured, it was difficult to take care of
them, and the building was wanted for other purposes.' Those
who remember the old gallery — a unique monument in honour
of an illustrious patriot and artist — and consider the sanctity of
contracts and of the grave, may question the soundness of the
motives which prompted this transfer.

3°

CHAPTER III.

Fourth of July Oration — Poetic Effusions — ' Love and Moonshine ' — Marriage
— Michael Pekenino — Mental Training — Recreation — The ' Elysian Fields,'
Hoboken — ' The Battery,' New York.

THE foregoing details afford a general idea of the be-
ginnings of my father's professional career. I now
turn to other incidents which, to maintain a certain
biographical unity, give a glimpse of his private life at this epoch,
his mental traits, his reading, his associations, his recreation, his
services to the public — in short, the experiences and fortunes of
a personality of a certain time, place, and character. We must
go back a little way. In 1817, two years after entering upon
his apprenticeship, my father officiated in a capacity singularly at
variance with any of his subsequent performances, that of a public
orator. His ' fellow-citizens ' of Springfield township selected him
for ' orator of the day ' on the celebration of the national holiday,
July 4th, 1 8 17, soon after the close of the war with England.
The celebration was held at the Springfield Presbyterian Church.
The usual patriotic procession took place, at the head of which
marched the music, consisting of fife and drum, played by two
of the orator's brothers. The character of the address, published
by request in the Newark Sentinel of Freedom, may be judged
by the following extracts. Whatever may be said of the rhetoric,
the patriotic sentiment which inspired it suited the occasion and
the minds of the audience : —

' Yon dazzling orb, as it towers above the horizon in all

FOURTH OF JULY ORATION. 31

the effulgence of resplendent day, smiles with unusual com-
placency on this eventful morning.

,^L* jit jk, jjt Jt

' When we contemplate the astonishing progress of this
Republic along the plane of continued elevation, when we
survey the splendid structure of our Federal Government,
the rapidity of our improvement in Agriculture, Literature,
and the Arts, together with the glorious achievements of our
immortal Heroes, and when in contact with which we see all
nature conspiring, subservient to advance us to the highest
pinnacles of glory — have we not cause to look up to Heaven
with eternal gratitude ? Have we not reason to exclaim,
Happy America !

jfe $f. 4g. £fe &.

' America is the last hope of human greatness ; and, warned
by the red Beacon blazing over the wide plains of tyrannic
desolation, let us shun the fatal path that leads to the waste
dominion. An eventful era is before us ! The convulsions
of Europe portend some uncommon epoch, and the potent
hand of Revolution, now evidently lifting over Britain, may
raise from the ashes of a sinking monarchy the Phoenix of
a Republic. ... In vain the tempest of ambition shall
thunder ; in vain the indignant billows of convulsing anarchy
shall dash against its foundations ; it [America] is the last
asylum for the rights of man ; the hand of the Eternal guards
it from destruction !

ale 3k, ?if- ite. jk.

' Soldiers in the cause of Freedom, I turn to you ! [un-
doubtedly the Springfield militia]. To you we look for
redress when the inflated insolence of foreign powers trifles

LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

with our long forbearance ! . . . . Let not the fire of
patriotism dwindle in your bosoms ! When you see your
liberty in danger, when you hear the groans of your murdered
brethren under all the agonies of the ruthless tomahawk and
scalping-knife, when you see your beloved wives and children
torn from your embrace and perishing before your eyes by
the ruffian hand of British cruelty, or inhumanly scourged on
their naked bodies for weeping at the sufferings of their
husbands — what are your sensations? I see the flush of
indignation crimson the manly cheek ! I hear you exclaim,
Perish the wretch who would shrink from the field of battle
when such were his incentives to action !

3£ %. £|£ j£ _ 3|g

'And you, fair daughters of America! .... In your
defence, the arm is nerved with sevenfold vengeance ! To
your embrace, the war-worn soldier flies from the din of
battle, and all its hardships are forgotten— or remembered with
the highest gratification.'

The reader may probably exclaim, ' Enough ! ' It is
sufficient to add that this severe handling of the British was
listened to with wrapt attention, vociferously cheered, and
honoured especially by the plaudits of the fair sex, as verified
by a lady present on the occasion, who stated to the writer in
her old age, ' We were astonished that one so young could
know so much.'

But this address was not the only manifestation of his
patriotism. He had seen service in the late war of 1812,
which probably excited his ire against the British. His brother
and himself, so he told me in after days, had been called out

POETIC EFFUSIONS. 33

along with other conscripts, and served one day somewhere
back of Brooklyn, to assist in digging and throwing up
entrenchments against a supposed landing of the British enemy
on Long Island.

We have now to turn to inspiration of a more peaceable
stamp. A couple of letters found among my father's corre-
spondence show that he was not only guilty of oratory, but
of poetry in the shape of odes, which, if published at all,
appeared anonymously. His correspondent, at all events, asked
for copies of them. One of these odes was addressed to South
Orange and the other to Springfield, the two large settlements
of the township in which he was born. A rhyming reply
to his friend's letter shows the working of the poetic vein,
so natural at the sentimental stage of life. He apologises
for not responding to the application sooner : —

' But all the excuse that I shall make
(Which, as you please, refuse or take)
Shall follow here — then, first and last,
Since you to other scenes have passed,
And crossed the Rubicon of Love —
Oh ! how could I so heedless prove
As, from this Bachelorian shore,
To send my wonted nonsense o'er !
I thought 'twould prove intrusive there,
And cloud thy blissful Heaven so fair ;
Besides, I've lived so long alone,
My heart has grown as cold as stone,
So that the muse that once look'd on me
Has watched her chance, and now she shuns me.'

34 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

Another effusion in the poetic line, although composed
many years later for a special purpose, as its title shows, may
here be inserted simply as a biographical item : —

Love and Moonshine: for a Lady's Album.

Of all the themes that poets choose
On which to supplicate the muse
Most earnestly for aid — that is,
Of themes for pages such as this —
There's none so apropos, so clever,
As Love and Moonshine mixed together.
Moonshine and Love has been the theme
Of every poet's fondest dream
Down through all ages light and dark,
From Homer to McDonald Clarke.
But not alone the poet's eye
Rekindles as the moonlit sky
Awakes the glowing charms of Love —
Bright eyes below! bright stars above!
Warm on the artist's soul it flows,
And lo ! the living canvas glows ;
And every artist, far and near,
From Rembrandt down to Robert Weir,
Has with a moonbeam drawn a sigh,
As Michael Paff can testify.

And who that's past the morn of life,
With hope and expectation rife,

LOVE AND MOONSHINE. 35

That has not sought the Paphian bower

And wooed the Cyprian queen ;
Or who, when Cynthia, queen of night,
Has shed abroad her silver light,
Hath never sought the pensive hour,

To sigh unheard, unseen?
Let science range creation o'er,
Let stern philosophy explore

The hidden depths of mind,
And let them spurn the winged boy,
They'll never find a purer joy

Than woman's love refined ;
And though they shun the moon's pale beams,
There's much of moonshine in their dreams,

Of least substantial kind.

Judging by this correspondence between the young friends,
full of sentimental insinuations and allusions, it is evident that
my father was thinking of matrimony, if not already engaged ;
in any event, his rhyming letter is dated April 27, 1820, and
the following year he was married and installed in a house in
Provost Street, now called Franklin Street, New York. The
date of his marriage with my mother, the daughter of Isaac
Baldwin, Bloomfield, New Jersey, is April 2, 1821. It is
probable that he was enabled to take this important step by
the commission to engrave the ' Declaration of Independence '
given to him by Colonel Trumbull.

One more correspondent of the same epoch who annoyed
and yet amused him, as well as all who had the privilege of
reading his letters, must be mentioned, an Italian named Michael

36 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

Pekenino ; he was a stipple engraver, and had a table in the
studio of my father, who harboured and helped him along mainly
because he was a foreigner and unused to the ways of the
country. ' Pekenino,' said my father, c sharpened a graver in
the most wonderful manner. He told me that if he could
engrave like me, he would go to with the greatest plea-
sure,' as he expressed it in his Dantean phraseology. Pekenino
was often employed by New York publishers, and particularly
by a Mr. Bartow, for whom he engraved the heads of certain
English poets to illustrate editions of their works republished
in this country at that time. How the Italian regarded his
patron may be gathered from the following specimen of his
English, taken from a letter dated May 22, 1822, at Phila-
delphia, to which city he had then removed, as it appears,
to escape prosecution for debt : —

' Dear Asher, —

* Intreating Heaven, threatening Hell, cannot induce that
adamantean Bartow to send me some money, and what is most infernal
to my circumstance, I cannot get an answer from that obstinate being —
in better terms, mortal stone ! That publisher of poets did not, and
do not, soften his heart at all in reading them ! He is as much sensible
as his mind is informed. I will write to him once more yet. I will,
and it will be the last he shall receive not arrainged in good English.'

On another occasion he says]: —

' This year the Supreme Agent is indeed employed in recruiting
the best earthy souls, Mr. Bonani, my countryman, which has illustrated
Philadelphia for some months with his drawings which art was master
off — he was called to Washington, and there, on the eve to be married
to a living specimen of de Medicis (oh, sadness to imagine!), the irre-
vocable shears cut off the tread of his life.'

P EKE NINO. 37

Pekenino wrote elegant script and boasted that the treaty
of Campo Formio, or another of Napoleon's treaties, had been
engrossed by him. He and my father engraved each other's
portraits, Pekenino making his engraving after a portrait by
Jewett, while my father made his after a portrait of Pekenino
drawn by himself. At the close of Pekenino's sojourn in
America, which chanced to be at the time Bolivar, the South
American patriot, was a popular hero, he became impecunious
to such an extent as to oblige him to raise money the best
way he could ; the plate of my father's head being in his
possession, he erased the title of c A. B. Durand,' and, adding
an engraved framework around the head, substituted the title
of ' Bolivar.' Many were sold, and occasionally impressions are
now found. Pekenino, to finish with him, returned to Italy,
the land of his beloved Dante and Petrarch, where, as he says
in his letters, c I can enjoy the society of my friends Morghen
and Longhi.'

The foregoing experiences help to bring my father's mental
training jnto clearer relief. It is evident that the common-
school education of his native village was not of much avail
in developing the powers of his mind ; on the other hand, it
was no impediment to intellectual activity. The habit of the
boy in satisfying natural curiosity in his father's workshop, the
privilege of roaming the fields and woods which kept his mind
in fresh contact with nature, and the indulgence of feelings
and sympathies indoors that required no theoretical training,
was an education of the best kind. Then comes another
advantage in his early ignorance — he had nothing to unlearn.
If he lacked the education derived from books, methods of
instruction, and school drill, he found a fitting substitute for

38 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

this in the knowledge gained by experience, and especially
by intercourse with others whose educational facilities had
surpassed his own ; intelligent, eager to learn, receptive and
a good listener, his mind absorbed all the intellectual nutri-
ment that his purposes and associations demanded.

In 1 821 his friend Sylvester Graham, of bran-bread fame,
an enthusiast of whom more will be said further on, had
my father elected an honorary member of a debating society
in Newark. At these societies, often organized by young
men in towns and villages, the graduates of colleges and
others, for self- improvement, the insolvable problems of moral
and social destiny were generally discussed. Much of the
subjective, metaphysical nonsense of youth here found vent.
My father attended some of the meetings, and probably
acquired ideas of general use in conversation. His reading
at this time consisted mainly of the English poets, of whom
Goldsmith and Thomson were his favourites. Their works,
presenting human life and character in harmony with his
rustic experiences, suited his temperament. Goldsmith's rural
scenes and personages, the dramatic truthfulness and genial
humour of the Vicar of Wakefield, and especially of The
Deserted Village, together with the descriptions of the seasons
by Thomson, vividly presenting the life of the woods and the
charm of lonely haunts, answered to the longings of his
imagination. In after years, many of the subjects of his
landscapes were prompted by these poetic souvenirs. The
earliest fruit of this branch of the tree of knowledge is his
original design and engraving of ' Musidora,' his first effort
at idealisation, and of which more will be said further on.
How he occupied his leisure hours, of which he had very

; id especially

es had

oeptive and

Lual nutri-

•bread fame,
tier on, , had

ting society
by young

dleges and

ns of moral

./ Monism _ ;

Much of the

tmuoie. ay* bimil iliiW '
.edmil auosJuEsd tad b'.qjqnK t gni^>vtue e^riEri 5;ij OUnQ Vdlt.
'.booft 3fto io 223nIooD bbui aril siSBi " T .

and probably

.u\\ j«yi\Vu» : i,'v*% His reading

s, of whom

works,

with his

■^ mith's rural

i genial

of "The

the seasons

»ds and the

rings of his

of his

rs. The

edge is his

first effort

on.

h he had very

RECREATION. 39

few, there is no record, save my own recollection of what
he said about them from time to time during his life. His
evenings were almost wholly devoted to drawing. Models at
this period could not be had — scarcely a plaster cast of any
description ; engravings alone supplied him with forms and
figures to imitate or adopt as guides in composing original
works. Only three elaborate pencil drawings remain to show
what he accomplished during these years : the first two,
derived from inner consciousness, consisting of the figure of
' Musidora ' and another of ' Solitude,' and the last, a drawing
of his first child seated on the floor by his cradle. Other
recreations were few and far between. Family cares and a
limited income prevented much indulgence in this way. One
of his enjoyments was the theatre. He heard Malibran, and
attended the performances of the elder Kean, and of the
admirable group of actors of the old Park Theatre in its
palmy days, fully appreciating the superior dramatic genius
of that epoch.

His recreation thus ministers to his professional pursuits.
It forms an important element of his intellectual growth.
Possessed by the sentiment of art and a love of nature, he
wasted no time on society or in any sort of dissipation.
When spare hours occurred he betook himself to Hoboken,
where he supplemented the Orange-mountain rambles of his
boyhood by strolling under the noble trees of the Elysian
Fields, then a favourite resort of those whose experiences
were like his own. Halleck, Bryant, Verplanck, Sands, and
others, born and brought up in the country, engaged in
literary pursuits, writing for newspapers and the like, were
only too glad to ' steal an hour from study and care,' and

4 o LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

refresh mind and body in this charming retreat. The Elysian
Fields were then in all their glory. My father resorted there
on Sundays and the few holidays which gave him some freedom.
A horse ferry-boat still served to cross the ferry. On its
deck chance acquaintances would be encountered and join in
the stroll. On one occasion, an incongruous discussion on
Rousseau's social theories took place with a moody, discontented,
Radical printer, whom my father determined to avoid in the
future. At other times, a more congenial companion would
be encountered, and the problems of art would be discussed.
But poets, painters, and printers were not the only frequenters
of these grounds. It was a fashionable resort for ladies and
children. The fresh summer breeze on crossing the river,
followed by an unmolested frolic on the grass, were rare delights
to them. City aldermen, again — respectable at that epoch — local
bons vivants, staid merchants fond of good cheer, came at regular
intervals to a club-house on the grounds to eat turtle soup,
play whist, and talk politics. Unfortunately, on Sundays the
Elysian Fields became more and more invaded by ' roughs,' the
inevitable canker of public grounds contiguous to our great
cities, until at last this sort of population got to be so numerous
that good society abandoned the place entirely. Then came
' commercial progress,' with its disintegration of all things lovely,
its wharfs, piers, steamers, ' forests of masts,' and dirt. Broad
avenues had been created, existent trees fell under the axe, and
the Elysian Fields vanished from the face of the earth.* Mean-

* The Stevens property in Hoboken, of which the Elysian Fields formed a part,
was originally a farm belonging to a Mr. Bayard, an Englishman and a Tory, who,
on the outbreak of the Revolutionary war, went back to England and afterwards
became a general in the British army. Confiscated by the United States Govern-

THE BATTERY. 41

while, the Battery in New York itself competed with its
Hoboken rival for recreative supremacy, and secured the attend-
ance of all who were not free to indulge in a country stroll.
Its precincts constituted the fashionable quarter of the city.
Instead of a five-o'clock tea, almost everybody took a five-
o'clock walk on the Battery, except in winter. The ' lower
ten,' who lived ' up-town ' between the City Hall and Canal
Street, availed themselves of the privilege, and formed a con-
tinuous stream in Broadway every fine day, wending their way
to and fro. Young men and young women — who, then as now,
composed ' society' — were the most numerous, and flirted and
gossiped to their hearts' content. Even sage business-men in
dull times left their stores, not far off, and resorted occasionally
to the Battery, to inhale some of its invigorating sea-breeze
and bask in its genial sunshine. Fashion, however, finally
moved farther up town, to Bleecker Street and Washington
Square ; commerce and the demon of improvement asserted
their rights, and the Battery, with Castle Garden, became a
depot for emigrants. It is sufficient to say of the Elysian

merit, the property was bought by Edwin Stevens, and is now in the possession of
his descendants. Mr. Frank Stevens (through my friend Dr. A. M. Mayer, of
the Stevens Institute of Technology) kindly furnishes the following information
regarding the horse-boat : ' Boats have been propelled by the paddle-wheel, by
horses or oxen for centuries. The Romans and Carthaginians both used them.
Prince Rupert, the famous nephew of Charles I., made one. Savary patented
one in 1698. But the application of the paddle in all these instances was to an
ordinary galley or vessel. John Stevens, in 181 2-1 3, built the first horse-boat
arranged so that vehicles with their horses attached could drive directly on it. His
horse-boats remained in use until superseded by his steam ferry-boat Hoboken,
in the latter part of 1821 ; but one of the horse-boats was retained for emergencies
until 1825. The plan was copied on the East River for the Catherine Street and
other ferries, and was long retained on some of the other ferries on the score
of economy. The last horse-boat was advertised for sale in 1837.'

42 LIFE OF A. B. DURJND.

Fields and the Battery, and to remark, in connexion with the
life of old times, that in the transformation of these magnificent
pleasure-grounds, New York lost two aesthetic landmarks never
to be replaced.

Trusting that the reader will pardon this digression in
behalf of old times, and which the plan of this work makes
necessary, I return to the engraving period of my father's life.

CHAPTER IV.

The Profession of an Artist a hard one — Line Engraving a Fine Art — Nature of
Art — Utility of the Artist in Society — Religious Sentiment : its First Inspira-
tion — Gradual Growth of other Sentiments in Past Art — Fidelity of bygone
Artists to Natural Perceptions.

MR. HUNTINGTON states in the Memorial Address
that 'it is a mistake that engraving was at that
time almost the only artistic pursuit in the country
which could furnish a reasonable support.' I must be per-
mitted to differ from him. Notwithstanding the evidence in
support of this assertion, I find, on the contrary, that other
artists than engravers had a 'hard time' in the pursuit of their
profession. As late as 1828, Alvan Fisher, a landscape-painter
living in Boston, thus writes to my father concerning his con-
tributions to the New York exhibition : —

1 You mention that two of my small paintings had been sold, but
that the person had not paid over to you the money received for them.
May I request you to obtain the money and forward it to me ? Cash
is somewhat scarce with me — as usual with the painters. Engravers,
I believe, are generally in better condition in this respect than the
painters.'

Twenty- four years later the situation is the same. An
eminent landscapist, whose merit was recognised abroad as well
as at home, thus writes to a benefactor: —

4 You will, no doubt, think me very ungrateful in neglecting to
write to you sooner, but my apparent neglect is the result only of

44 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

vexations and disappointments. I have sold in the last eight or nine

months only four small pictures to my brother for 300 dollars ;

these I sold shortly after you left the city, and one hundred of that
went to pay a board bill contracted (in the country) last summer. I
am, luckily for me, paying my board this winter for myself and family
(with the exception of my son) in pictures ; Messrs. S. and L. (keepers
of a hotel) kindly consented to do this, purely, I believe, to assist me.

My son, poor fellow, is trying to get a situation on the Erie

Railroad. His situation is my greatest trouble. Hitherto, I have been
able to maintain him. But now adversity so presses on me that I
have but little to spare, and it wrings my heart with anguish to witness
his utter inability to get his living by painting. I have a wife and
two daughters to maintain, and God only knows what is to become
of them if I cannot sell my pictures.'

Three years pass, during which period the artist lives by
continuing to borrow money. Apologising for not having paid
his debts, he says : —

'North Orange, N. J., January 1, 1855.

' I sincerely trust that although I have been silent, you will not
attribute to me wilful neglect. I need not tell you that the artist's
profession is a very precarious one ; it is impossible for him, do the
best he can, to procure more than is barely sufficient to maintain
himself and those dependent on him. If you should see in my con-
duct anything that might imply a shadow of dishonesty, I beg, for
" Auld Lang Syne," that you will eject it from your mind at once.
You wish me to write you more fully about our new home. Alas !
I do not feel as tho' I had a home yet, the times are so dreadfully
out of joint. I am convinced, however, that, notwithstanding my
" penchant " for the country, circumstances will make it imperative to
remove to the city. I am likely to be forgotten in this Town of

Hatters and end my days a melancholy man if I stay here My

prospects for the present are gloomy enough indeed. God help us!'

Nevertheless, as Mr. Huntington aptly says, ' The painters
supplied the engravers with material for their burin. Trumbull

VALUE OF LINE ENGRAVING. 45

was busy with his battle-pieces, and often painted portraits.
Vanderlyn had painted the portraits which enlisted Aaron
Burr in his favour. Waldo was then a student, beginning to
practise portraiture and eking out a scanty purse by painting
signs for hatters, butchers, and tapsters. Some of those
pictures of beaver hats, with their beautiful gloss, or ribs of
beef and fat chickens, or foaming mugs of ale at the hands
of jolly topers, which were swinging in the wind in our
boyish days, were the handicraft of Waldo, as he himself told

the writer Jarvis, too, was starting on that series

of the heroes of the war of 18 12, some of which Durand
afterwards engraved, and which now adorn the Governor's
room in the City Hall.'

Line engraving, it must not be forgotten in these days of
photographic processes, which have almost supplanted it and
converted it into a 'lost art,' was at this period of art
development, the sole means by which the inaccessible works
of a painter, those of an ' old master,' or of any foreign or
native artist, could be made widely known. Through the
cunning of its technical process, a line engraving displays the
principal elements of a painting — composition, drawing, form,
gradations of light and shade, and the subtleties of effect —
everything but colour. In competent hands the mechanical
processes employed, like delicate sculpture, become a fine art,
and the engraver a genuine artist. Sometimes his art equals,
and occasionally surpasses, that of the painter whose work he
copies. The ' Hemicycle ' of Delaroche, for example, engraved
by Henriquel Dupont, may be classed along with the original
in artistic powers of expression, while it has been said of the
two works, Van Dyck's equestrian portrait of 'Moncada,' and

46 LIFE OF A. B. BURANB.

the engraving of it by Raphael Morghen, commonly called
'The White Horse,' that if either painting or engraving had
to disappear, it would be better, in the interests of art, to
lose the former. In 1822, engraving in America was the
only ' paying ' art — that is to say, the only branch of art for
which there was a public demand. The public, however, cared
nothing for ' high art ' in engraving, either in subject or
technical skill, like the Madonnas of the great Italian schools,
or the martyrs, saints, and allegories belonging to Renaissance
art. Patronage of American engraving depended on less lofty
aims. The American engraver had to employ his burin on
portraits of men or women of more or less local reputation,
or on familiar scenes that appealed to common sympathies, of
which very few attracted attention. My father's progress, of
course, depended on this order of taste. Public patronage,
however, was not wholly due to spontaneous instincts ; he
owed what he enjoyed of it more to the recommendation of
his work by native painters — Trumbull, Sully, Allston, and
others — than to public recognition of his talent. His aim,
consequently, was not to please the public, but to perfect
himself in his profession. Literally self-taught, he continued
to improve in the same way, by means and facilities which
his growing reputation afforded him. On establishing himself
in New York, he procured the best examples of the works
of eminent European engravers — Bervic, Raphael Morghen,
Wille, Sharp, Audouin, Strange, and the rest — and studied these
closely. All that now remains is to set forth the nature and
conditions of his progress. In order to make this clear, I
must claim the reader's indulgence for another digression.

To portray the nature and conditions of an artist's

ART AND THE ARTIST. 47

career in a community like that in which my father was
born, and where he had to make his way self-educated and
self-supporting ; where the utility of art in the past could
not be estimated by accessible works in free galleries ; where
men of artistic genius born on the soil, like Benjamin West,
were obliged to emigrate ; where architects, and especially
sculptors, like Houdon, were imported into the country to
model the form and features of its greatest man ; where
there was almost absolute ignorance of the artistic master-
pieces of the world, the statues, the paintings, the palaces,
the cathedrals that have been held sacred by successive
generations of men — is not easy. Some explanation, therefore,
of the service of the artist to society is necessary to enforce
his value in a new community, side by side with other
recognised ministrants to social needs.

Generally speaking, Art is a distinct language, a language
of outward images, by which the character of human emotion
in the service of the ideal is conveyed from mind to mind
better than can be done with words ;* while the artist is
the psychologist who, possessing a keen insight into emotional
causes and effects, reproduces these in material or visible
form. Endowed with acute sensibilities and with that subtle
perspicacity which detects the spirit under the form, studying
shades and meaning of emotion in the countenances and
actions of humanity, observing the special traits which denote,
for example, vulgarity or nobleness of character — honest
brutes, as in the boors of Teniers, or commonplace beings
as portrayed by other masters of the Dutch school ; again,

* Horace says, ' That which is transmitted through the ear arouses thought
less vividly than that which is placed directly before the eye.'

48 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

sublime despondency as in the sculpture of Michael Angelo,
rapt adoration as in the saints and angels of Fra Angelico,
beauty and purity of feeling as in the Madonnas of Raphael
— obtaining his subjects from history, from real life, or
inventing figures which translate his perceptions — the artist
' holds the mirror up to nature,' and satisfies ideal longings
objectively for which ordinary language is inadequate. His
qualifications for this service are simply sensuous impressions
combined with intellectual and emotional sagacity not found
in men of other pursuits. Hence the function of the Artist.

We have now to see in what sense he is equally necessary
with other labourers in society devoted to its common wants.
The main condition of the artist's existence in a community
is the public demand for his work. In this respect there
is no difference between the artist and any other man who
labours for the common weal. The man who paints, models
a statue, composes music, sings an opera, or writes out his
thought for a living, is, as far as his labour is concerned, on
a par with the farmer who tills the ground, the mechanic
who works at a trade, the merchant, the doctor, the lawyer,
the engineer, or the navigator, all of whose talents respond
to common social necessities. As with them, the greater the
demand for the artist's labour, the more does he improve in
skill and capacity. The only difference between their work
and his is this : that while the farmer, mechanic, lawyer,
physician, engineer, and navigator, labour chiefly in behalf of
the material wants of a community, the artist labours in
behalf of its ideal wants, for the cravings of the imagination
due to emotions, sentiments, sympathies, and aspirations.
That these cravings must be satisfied to an equal extent

THE RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT. 49

with real or material wants it is needless to emphasise, as
human experience from the earliest ages gives it proof. The
ever-recurring recognition and maintenance of the artist in
society, therefore, is the sign of his utility. A few illustra-
tions of this psychological and artistic development in the
past will make this point more fully comprehensible.

Take, for example, the strongest emotion that stirs the
human breast, the religious sentiment. At the dawn of
civilisation, humanity strives to divinise the mysterious forces
of life and nature, which are rudely recognised as favouring
or thwarting human energies. In Egypt, for instance, divine
power incarnated in every familiar living creature is
symbolised by images of man himself, of animals, birds,
reptiles, and insects, just as the Egyptian conceives their
relative power and influence upon him for good or for ill,
before and after death. Images of gods of divers shapes
abound in this sense, from the smallest to the most gigantic,
from the little scarabasus * to the colossi of Memnon, all of
religious significance and in hierarchical order according to the
kind of force which excites general awe and reverence. The
more mysterious the force, the more colossal the symbol.
The hieroglyphic language of Egypt is that of images. The
Egyptian, indeed, seems incapable of entertaining an
immaterial idea; images of gods — symbols of all sorts of
abstract conceptions in which the faintest analogies of organic
life, human, animal, reptile, and insect are traceable — surround
him at all times, out of doors, in his home, at his meals,

* 'La perpetuite des transformations etait a tout instant rappelee a l'esprit par
le scarabee, l'hieroglyphe du devenir, l'amulette par excellence, reproduit a million
d'exemplaires.' — Le Pantheon Egyptien, by Pierret.

5 o LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

in the tomb, ever present as the visible substance of his
faith.

The same instincts and motives animated the Greeks, but on
a higher plane of civilisation. The Greeks, far more advanced
in personal culture and in social experience, more refined in
every way, more delicate and subtle in their perceptions, with
greater sensibility and capacity for life's enjoyments, more moral
and more in harmony with the world in which they lived,
personified at first divine origins in the elements, and afterwards,
not alone the functions of animals, as with ' the Egyptians, but
human energies, intellect, and virtues, as these became revealed
by superior social and political attrition. Chronos, Saturn, the
Titans, and other deities, symbolised creative forces, and con-
stituted the rude deities of primitive times ; * in their wake, as
Greek society progressed morally and intellectually, the Olympian
deities — Zeus, Here, Ares, Hermes, Poseidon, Athene, Aphrodite,
Artemis, and the rest — bear witness to the keen insight of the
Greeks into mental and ethical phenomena. Perhaps no more
striking example of Greek genius in this respect can be furnished
than the nice distinction of meaning by form in the statues of
the wise Athene, the voluptuous Aphrodite, and the chaste
Artemis, all female divinities, symbolising so many special
attributes of woman observed in the complexities of her life
and nature.

The art of the Romans, as far as religious emotion is con-
cerned, is substantially that of the Greeks ; their original art

* ' C'est au statuaire que revient le soin de conserver les types religieux. . . .
L'humanisation de l'ideal s'est faite surtout par ses mains ; pendant plusieurs
siecles, la sculpture a ete un enseignement theologique.' — Philosophic de F Archi-
tecture en Grece, by E. Boutmy.

MEDIAEVAL ART. 51

is represented chiefly by monuments like the Colosseum, theatres,
and immense baths, revealing through architecture the nature
of Roman habits and amusements.

On the advent of Christianity, the attributes of the Redeemer
found artistic expression in allegorical symbolry, soon followed
by His personification in mosaic. At length, as society became
more refined, more humane, chiefly through the growth of
respect for woman, accompanied by the protection afforded
her by the Church, the Madonna appeared in art, symbolising
another ideal attribute of the sex than the more material one
which prevailed in antiquity. Next came artistic representations
of the experiences, trials, sufferings, and exploits of the ' noble
army of saints and martyrs,' which in fresco, on the walls of
churches, in countless statues and bas-reliefs outside on church
doors and pinnacles, impress on the popular mind ideas of new
virtues, new traits of human character unknown in bygone ages.
All these forms, figures, and architectural structures, due to
religious sentiment and constituting the plastic language of a
new faith, attest the utility of the artist in mediaeval society.

The almost exclusive monopoly of art by the religious
sentiment begins to give way in the Renaissance epoch. Other
human emotions now stimulate artistic effort. Portraiture,
indicative of admiration or reverence for eminent men and of
beautiful or distinguished women, gains ground. Allegorical
art, sculptural and pictorial on a large scale, embodies a multi-
tude of subjects representing ideals of power, conquest, glory,
and other civilising influences, in antique and modern designs
— the vast gardens, fountains, palaces, and other insignia of
monarchical grandeur that now render Rome, Florence, Venice,
and Versailles famous through the works of Giotto, Raphael,

52 LIFE OF A. B. DURJND.

Paul Veronese, Bramante, Rubens, Le Brun, Le Notre, and a
host of other capable artists. European art, again, becomes
differentiated under the title of Schools, mostly national, the
title originating in technical peculiarities, such as drawing or
colour, and, again, of sentiment. The Dutch school of art,
a type of this differentiation in contrast with that of Italy,
becomes prominent, arising out of local, social, and domestic
life, with all its commonplace surroundings. ' It exacts and
provokes the representation of man as he is, and life as it is,
both as the eye encounters them — citizens, peasants, cattle,

shops, taverns, rooms, streets, and landscapes Nature, in

herself, whatever she may be, whether human, animal, vegetable,
or inanimate, with all her irregularities, minutias, and omissions,
is inherently right, and, when comprehended, people love and
delight to contemplate her. The object of art is not to change
nature, but to interpret her.' * As has been well said, ' Why
should not these pictures, a special idea of life and society,
one of the great historic ideas of humanity, be considered
precious?'")"

History thus verifies the utility of the artist in the practical
sense in which the utility of other ministrants to social needs
is understood. The artists of all time, in employing the forms
of nature to express grand ideas, have ever been mindful of the
faculties of the people for whom they laboured; natural objects
have been depicted by them in accordance with visual laws
common to everybody. Sensibility of the eye to outward objects
with reference to form and colour, coupled with a ready compre-
hension of their artistic purpose, have at all times been understood

* Art in the Netherlands, by H. Taine.
■j" Sydney Smith, by Andre Chevrillon.

HALF -IV AY ART. 53

alike by both artist and observer ; the sole difference between
them is greater or less delicacy of perception and greater or less
refinement of feeling in detecting the significance of an object
chosen to interpret an idea. Artists in the past have never
entertained or had their minds swayed by subtle theories of
colour and light like those now current. Never have the great
masters sacrificed the spirit of a subject to mere technical display.
Half-way art — the forced concord of pigments in semi-obscurity,
literal imitation, and the grouping of objects without sentiment
or beauty, the shirking of drawing, incomplete detail on account
of decorative position— never absorbed their thought or guided
their brush. Egyptian, Grecian, Mediaeval, Renaissance, and
Dutch art, the works of the past which still excite undying
admiration, mean the same to us as to bygone generations,
because we see nature the same as the artists who painted them.
In recognising the integrity of past art, would we not do well to
follow such examples, and keep art from degenerating into mere
technical bravura?

CHAPTER V.

Dunlap offers a Commission — Various Portraits Engraved — Clergymen, Patriots,
Actors, and Physicians — The 'Annual' — Foreign Reputation of American
Artists — Exhibitions — Rise of Art Institutions — The Press — Letter of James
Fennimore Cooper — Collection of Philip Hone — Michael Paff — Fashion in
Art.

SOME time before Colonel Trumbull had engaged my
father to engrave the ' Declaration of Independence,'
Mr. Dunlap, author of the History of the Progress of
the Arts of Design in the United States, had noticed his talent,
and sent him the following letter: —

'Mr. Durand, ' Norfolk, December 24, 1819.

Sir, — By an arrangement with Bishop Moore, I am to paint
his portrait in Richmond. I am induced to believe that a very great
subscription can be obtained for a print representing this popular gentleman
in this State alone, and important additions in Pennsylvania, New Jersey,
and New York. In this State I am assured of active agency for this
purpose. Now, Sir, the object of this letter is to ask you if you will
engage in the scheme of publishing such a portrait, and share with me in
the proceeds. If you are willing, the next question is, on what terms ?
I will deliver the portrait to you in New York next spring. In the
meantime I will procure subscribers in Virginia, and on my route home-
ward in Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia, &c. The size which has
been mentioned is that of" Bishop White." At what price ought such a
portrait to be sold or delivered to subscribers ? How many inches is that
print ? Your answers to these queries, and any other information on the
subject, addressed to me in Norfolk will, in case I have gone to Richmond,
follow me, and I shall be guided by the receipt of your letter.

' I remain, Sir, your obedient servant,

« W. Dunlap.'

VARIOUS ENGRAVINGS. 55

The proposal was never entertained, probably because the
engraver would take no speculative risk in the matter.

As has been already stated, the ' Declaration of Independence,'
representing a group of patriots well known to the people of the
country, is the first production of my father's burin which
ensured his professional reputation. This engraving was too
large, however, to suit the popular purse. During the progress
of the work, Colonel Trumbull personally solicited subscrip-
tions ; he was obliged also to mortgage the plate while in my
father's hands, and never, probably, was fully remunerated by
the sale of its impressions. Engravings of the same character
followed immediately : ' Oliver Wolcott,' Governor of Con-
necticut, and, at a later period, a series of portraits of national
celebrities. Meanwhile his graver was busy with the portraits
of divines. ' Why do you not engrave the ministers ? ' said one
of his friends to him ; ' they'll sell like hot cakes.' Conspicuous
amongst these in size, as well as in the reputation of the subject,
were ' Rev. John M. Mason,' the ' theological thunderbolt of the
times,' and ' Rev. John Summerfield,' distinguished for eloquence,
and particularly for success at revivals in touching the conscience
of his hearers. Next after these came the portraits of ' Rev. Dr.
Milledoler,' President of Rutgers College, ' Rev. James Milnor,'
'Rev. Gardner Spring,' and ' Rev. Samuel H. Cox,' also 'Judge
Elias Boudinot,' President of the Bible Society, belonging to the
same category, all of New York ; ' Rev. Eliphalet Nott,' Presi-
dent of Union College, Schenectady ; ' ' Rev. Dr. Sprague ' of
Albany ; ' Rev. Dr. Dalcho ' of South Carolina, well-known
pastors enjoying local fame and still in repute as men of ability.
' This,' said Mr. Durand, ' was the most humiliating work I ever
did. I used to get them up in conjunction with the painter,

S6 LIFE OF A. B. BURANB.

The general public would not buy them, so we had to appeal
to the ministers and the congregations ; and hawking them about
in this way, by personal appeals, I barely made a living by
engraving them.'*

Following these came portraits of eminent patriots of the
Revolution, statesmen and military heroes, most of which were
engraved for the National Portrait Gallery, successfully published
by James Herring of Philadelphia. We here find ' Washington,'
twice engraved by my father after portraits painted respectively
by Trumbull and Stuart ; ' John Marshall,' first Chief Justice of
the U.S. Supreme Court ; 'Charles Carrol of Carrolton,' one of
the signers of the Declaration of Independence ; ' John Trum-
bull,' painter, aide-de-camp of General Washington, and diplomat
(who gave my father sittings during the progress of the work) ;
' James Kent,' Chancellor and jurist ; ' Gilbert Stuart,' the artist ;
' Aaron Ogden,' Governor of New Jersey, after a portrait made
by the engraver; 'Dewitt Clinton,' 'Alexander Hamilton,' and
many others of similar consideration. For this class of works
he was amply compensated. Two large engravings — ' General
Jackson,' full length, after a picture by Vanderlyn ; ' John
Quincy Adams,' after a portrait by Sully — a head of ' Craw-
ford ' and one of ' David Crockett,' are of special interest
in this series of subjects. On the completion of the Erie
Canal, the Common Council of New York celebrated the
event and published a commemorative volume, for which my
father engraved the portraits of two eminent New York
citizens — ' Philip Hone ' and ' William Paulding,' the latter
after his own drawing.

* From 'Asher Brown Durand,' an article by Barnet Phillips, published in
the New York Times.

VARIOUS PORTRAITS. 57

The next series of portraits produced by him in conformity
with public taste consists of several popular actors and
actresses, eminent in their profession, and engraved for a
serial publication under the auspices of Mr. Francis C. Wemyss,
of Philadelphia :—< Cowell,' 'Hilson,' 'Mrs. Hilson,' 'Duff,'
' Barnes,' ' Mrs. Barnes,' ' Forrest,' and ' Macready ; ' ' Hackett,'
for George P. Morris, editor of the New York Mirror; and
' George Jones,' afterwards the Count Joannes, at his own
expense. After these follow a group of physicians belonging
to New York and Philadelphia : ' Thomas Cooper,' ' Philip
S. Physick,' ' David Hosack,' ' S. L. M. Mitchell,' and < Valen-
tine Mott.' Other distinguished persons further illustrate
the public taste for art : ' Noah Webster,' the lexicographer ;
' Lindley Murray,' the grammarian ; ' Robert C. Sands,' poet,
publicist, and humorist ; ' Anna Braithewaite,' a religious
enthusiast ; and ' Catherine M. Sedgwick,' author of Hope
Leslie. Certain individuals, ambitious of immortality at the
hands of engraving, employed my father at their own cost :
' Garrit Furman,' who wrote and published amateur poetry ;
' Rem Rapelje,' a ' worthy burgher ' and author of personal
memoirs full of amusing egotism ; and ' William Fuller,' a
noted gymnast and professor of pugilism, delineated by C. C.
Ingham at full length in the ' manly art of self-defence.'
Classified by number and title, these heads consist of thirty-
two portraits of clergymen, twenty-three portraits of patriots
and statesmen, ten of actors, seven of physicians, and several
of men and women unknown to fame, claiming public recogni-
tion in their own way. Embracing, as this classification does, a
greater variety of notable characters than can be found in the
works of any contemporary artist, we can form a tolerably

58 LIFE OF A. B. DUE AND.

clear idea of the sentiments that inspired public taste for art
and encouraged the growth of art in the community. In
sum, the public esteemed the portraits of men who ministered
to its religious and moral cravings, its patriotism, its amuse-
ments, its health, and its literary and other tastes, such as they
were. In this respect the American community awards honours
through art much in the same sense as the Greeks, who first
immortalised their gods, goddesses, and heroes by statues, and
after these in a kindred spirit their statesmen, physicians,
gymnasts, and philosophers.

But a taste for art in the American community, as far as
this is exemplified by engraving, was not fostered alone by
that particular branch. Publications arose which involved
the use of painting, in which the talent of native artists
found proper appreciation. Foremost among these at this
period was the 'Annual/ a publication originating in England,
the object of which was to supply the public with a gift-book
for the Christmas and New Year holidays — a book of poetry,
prose, verse and tale, by known local writers, and illustrated
by native artists, the model of which is the ' Keepsake.' Thus
far, in America, public taste for illustrations (as nowadays
exemplified by monthly magazines, of which the Annual is
the precursor) had been confined to editions of the English
poets, containing a few line and stipple engravings copied
from English originals, such as those executed by my father
during his apprenticeship, and afterwards by Pekenino; as yet,
no publication in general circulation afforded popular illustra-
tions of ideas and sentiments growing out of the real drama
and romance of life, actual and historic, then stimulated to
such an extraordinary degree by the works of Walter Scott.

THE ANNUAL. 59

Native resources in literature and art accordingly came in
play, the result of which was the American Annual. Our
best writers of that day — Bryant, Halleck, Irving, Verplanck,
Sands, and the rest — together with our best painters and
engravers — Morse, Inman, Cole, Doughty, Weir, Ingham,
Danforth, Cheney, Smillie, and others — contributed to it with
enthusiasm. The most prominent annuals were the Atlantic
Souvenir ; the Gift, published at Philadelphia ; the Token,
published in Boston ; and the Talisman, published in New
York — all proving of great service in rendering art popular,
and especially in the development of native talent. My father
contributed largely, his graver being in constant demand for
Annuals so long as he remained in the profession. His
principal works in this line are as follows : ' The Greek Boy,'
a portrait by R. W. Weir, of young Evangelides, then a
student in Columbia College ; ' The Sisters ' and ' The Wife,'
after compositions by Morse ; ' The Ghost of Darius ' and
' The Bride of Lammermoor,' after pictures by Inman ; ' The
Power of Love,' after an old painting, artist unknown ; ' The
Dull Lecture,' after a picture by Stuart Newton ; ' The
Gipsying Party,' ' Sancho Panza and the Duchess,' ' Anne
Page, Slender, and Shallow,' after compositions by Leslie ;
' The White Plume,' an ideal head by Ingham ; and a frontis-
piece to the Atlantic Souvenir after his own design. Most
of these subjects, it must be noted, appeal to domestic senti-
ment, and all are within the scope of American imagination.

The correspondence of my father with Messrs. Cary & Lea,
publishers of the Atlantic Souvenir, indicate the spirit in which
the Annual was edited, as well as their appreciation of the talent
and judgment of the engraver. In one of their letters, Mr. Cary

60 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

recommends him to correct the drawing of a certain figure —
which he often had to do in the works of other artists. In
another, he is requested to examine the collection of Joseph
Bonaparte, Count Survilliers, at Bordentown, New Jersey, in
order to find desirable subjects to engrave. Again, Mr. Cary
says, ' We have received from London a very fine portrait of
Tintoretto's mistress, of which you might make a beautiful

illustration for our book I should like to see your graver

employed on a handsome female head, as I am sure that you
would make something to please the nation.' Whatever this
portrait may have been, it is probable that it was not engraved
on account of its title, which would have been out of place and
objectionable in a book circulating so largely in the family circle.
In another letter Mr. Cary says, ' You mention a picture of
Inman's ; as we desire to make the work as American as we
can, keep your eye on it.'

Public taste for art, again, had developed unconsciously
through the experiences and fame of American artists outside
of their country, the same as its literary taste had improved
through foreign admiration of Irving and Cooper. Allston,
Malbone, and Morse, contemporaries of these honoured writers,
had begun their careers in Charleston, South Carolina, where art,
at this time apparently better understood than in the North,
found a liberal patronage that enabled these artists to pursue
their studies and find appreciators in England.* Vanderlyn,

* It is worth noting that Inman, in 1835, painted 'The Bride of Lammer-
moor ' for Mr. Hugh Swinton Ball, of South Carolina. ' The Bloody Hand,' by
Washington Allston, was likewise possessed by an American of that State.
'Charleston is said, of all the American towns, to have approached (in 1774)
most nearly to the social refinement of a great European capital.' — Lecky, History
of England in the Eighteenth Century, vol. iii., page 289.

EARLY LANDSCAPES. 61

through the encouragement of Aaron Burr, accompanied them,
and was able to study and obtain honours in France. The
recognition of the works of these artists in Europe reflected
honour on American talent. Allston, like West, would probably
have become President of the Royal Academy had he remained
in England. Morse, on his return, brought his knowledge to
bear, and wrote and lectured on art.

Meanwhile, unable to live and study abroad, a few self-
taught painters were groping their way at home with marked
success in new directions. Doughty, Cole, Fisher, Hoyle, and
others, inspired by the beauty of local scenery and its associations,
painted landscapes of decided merit. Dunlap had exhibited
about the country his ' Christ Rejected,' a very large canvas,
poor as art, but well calculated, on account of its size and
subject, to impress the popular mind. Ingham painted ideal
heads, and likewise Weir, together with historical composi-
tions. Inman produced figure subjects, establishing his capacity
in the higher range of art ; while, at the close of this period,
Mount, prompted by his love of humour, came on the
stage and admirably treated the comic side of American rural
life by portraying the droll characters he found on Long
Island. Works by all these artists were engraved for the
Annuals.

Other agencies quickened the public taste. Institutions for
art arose side by side with those devoted to social needs, and
first, 'The American Academy of Fine Arts' in New York,
founded at the instigation of Trumbull, as already mentioned,
projected in 1802 and chartered in 1808; next, 'The Penn-
sylvania Academy of the Fine Arts ' at Philadelphia, chartered
in 1805 — both under the control of laymen. 'This latter

62 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

institution,' says Dunlap, ' owes its origin to a few gentlemen
in Philadelphia — seven lawyers, one carver, two physicians, one
auctioneer, one wine merchant, and one painter.' More
important than these, however, was the ' National Academy
of Design,' and the most conspicuous, because managed by
artists themselves, naturally the most competent to regulate
their own interests ; this institution, moreover, furnished the
public with periodical exhibitions, giving to it, as it were, an
annual report of local progress in art, as well as a novel and
favourite entertainment hitherto unknown.

Exhibitions, which are the most potent of all agencies in
developing public taste, merit extended notice. Dunlap states
that the first exhibition in the country, got up by a small
group of artists in Philadelphia, 'was opened this year (1794)
in that celebrated hall where the Declaration of Independence
was determined upon and proclaimed. The pictures were
borrowed from the citizens. This association of artists, of
whose names I find only Charles Wilson Peale, Joseph Ceracchi,
and William Rush, held their meetings at the house of Mr.
Peale. Some other artists, and Ceracchi at their head, separated
from the " Columbianum " (the title of their projected insti-
tution), and after the first exhibition it died. Ten years after
Mr. Peak's first attempt, some of the most enlightened citizens
of New York (1802), with a view to raising the character of
their countrymen by increasing their knowledge and taste,
associated for the purpose of introducing casts from the antique
into the country. These worthy citizens, though none of them
artists, called themselves " The American Academy of Fine
Arts."' The casts were purchased by the American minister
at Paris, Robert R. Livingston. 'When these casts,' says

ART INSTITUTIONS. 6 3

Dunlap, ' arrived in New York, a building on the west side
of Greenwich Street, which had been erected for a circus or
riding-school, was hired, and the statuary opened for exhibition.
This did not attract much attention, and, the funds of the
society suffering, the casts were packed up and stored. After
the charter was granted (1808), the use of the upper part of
a building, once intended as a house for the President of the
United States, but occupied as the Custom House, was loaned
to the Academy, and the casts removed thither. They were
again removed, packed up, and stored until 18 16.' To con-
tinue chronologically: 'In 1805, Jos. Hopkinson, Esq.,' Dunlap
further adds, ' stimulated by a view of the casts executed in
Paris after the antique, which were in the possession of the
New York Academy, and by his own taste and patriotism,
proposed to several gentlemen of Philadelphia the establishment
of a similar institution.' In 18 10, says Dunlap, this was done
under the name of ' The Society of Artists of the United
States.' Early in 18 n 'the first exhibition took place, and
an address was made by Benj. H. Latrobe.' The 'Society of
Artists,' a rival of the ' Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine
Arts,' was finally dissolved, and the field left clear in Phila-
delphia to this latter institution.

Of the press in these days as a fostering agent of native
art not much can be said. The New York Mirror, devoted
to belles-lettres, furnished its subscribers occasionally with
engraved portraits, and Dunlap, its art critic, reviewed the
annual displays of the National Academy of Design in a dry,
perfunctory manner. Whatever space in its columns was
otherwise allowed to art, it was generally absorbed by the
' Old Masters.' Occasional correspondence, however, in the

64 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

daily journals shows the expanding taste for art. The following
letter by J. Fennimore Cooper, cited by Dunlap, although long,
merits a place here, inasmuch as it shows the superior intelli-
gence of its famous writer, as well as the beginning of American
development of sculpture in the advent of Horatio Greenough.
The letter is dated at Dresden, July 29, 1830.

' Most of our people who come to Italy employ the artists of the
country to make copies, under the impression that they will be both
cheaper and better than those done by Americans studying there. My
own observation has led me to adopt a different course. I am well
assured that few things are done for us by Europeans under the same
sense of responsibility as when they work for customers nearer home.
The very occupation of the copyist infers some want of that original
capacity, without which no man can impart to a work, however exact it
may be in its mechanical details, the charm of expression. In the case of
Mr. Greenough, I was led even to try the experiment of an original.
The difference in value between an original and a copy is so greatly in
favour of the former, with anything like an approach to success, that I am
surprised more of our amateurs are not induced to command them. The
little group I have sent home will always have an interest that can belong
to no other work of the same character. It is the first effort of a young
artist, who bids fair to build for himself a name, and whose life will be
connected with the history of the art in that country which is so soon to
occupy such a place in the world. It is more : it is probably the first
group ever completed by an American sculptor.

1 The subject is taken from a picture in the Pitti Palace at Florence,
and which is well known as " La Madonna del Trono." The picture is
said to be by Raphael, though some pretend to see the work of one of his
scholars in the principal figure. The Virgin is seated on a throne, and
the principal subject is relieved, according to the fashion of the day, by
cherubim and angels, represented as singing or sounding the praise of the
Infant. We selected two little cherubs, or rather two infant angels, who
are standing at the foot of the throne, singing from a scroll, to be transferred
to the marble. They are as large as life, if one may use the term on such

J. FENNIMORE' COOPER. 65

an occasion, and are beautifully expressive of that infantine grace and
innocence which painters love to embody in those imaginary beings.

' I left Florence for Naples before the work had been commenced in
marble, and can only speak of it as I saw it in the plaster. In that state
it was beautiful, and I can safely say that all the time I was in Italy I saw
no modern work of the same character that gave me so much pleasure on
account of the effect. It was universally admired, and really, I think, it
deserved to be so.

' In the picture, these angels were accessories, and when they came to
be principals, it was necessary to alter their attitudes. Then the painter
could give but half the subject, whereas the sculptor was obliged to give
all. Again, the former artist was able to produce his effect by the use
of colours ; while the latter, as you well know, is limited to lights and
shades. Owing to these differences between the means and the effects of
the two arts, Mr. Greenough had but little more aid from the original
than he derived from the idea. Perhaps the authority of Raphael was
necessary to render such a representation of the subject palatable in our
day.

' I think you will be delighted with the expression of the youngest of
these two imaginary beings. It is that of innocence itself, while it is an
innocence superior to the feebleness of childhood. It represents rather the
want of the inclination than of the ability to err, a poetical delineation of
his subjects in which Raphael greatly excelled, and which, in this instance,
has been certainly transferred to the marble with singular fidelity and
talent.

' Agreeably to the conditions of our bargain, Mr. Greenough has the

right to exhibit this little group for his own benefit. I hope that the

peculiarity of its being the first work of the kind which has come from an

American chisel, as well as the rare merit of the artist, will be found to

interest the public at home. . -r 7 ,

r ' Yours truly,

' J. Fennimore Cooper.'

In the way of private collections of paintings, that of Philip
Hone, of New York, in which native art was dominant, is
the most remarkable. It contained ' The Greek Boy,' by R.

66 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

W. Weir ; ' The Delaware Water Gap,' by Doughty ; two
small landscapes, ' Falls of the Kaaterskill,' and ' Still Lake,'
in the Catskill Mountains ; two portraits, ' Lafayette ' and
' Kent,' by Moore ; a landscape by Hoyle ; portrait of ' Dewitt
Clinton,' by Ingham ; with water-colour drawings by W. J.
Bennett and Wall. This collection also contained the fine
picture by Leslie of 'Anne Page, Slender, and Shallow,' now
unfortunately in England, and ' The Dull Lecture,' by Stuart
Newton, now in the Lenox Gallery, New York.

Only one more agency, conspicuous in the modern develop-
ment of art, remains to be noticed — the Picture Dealer, a natural
product of the commercial spirit, and a proof that art at this
epoch had got to be of some consequence. This social
ministrant to the public taste of the day is ' Michael PafF, Esq.,
an industrious and successful collector of paintings,' as he is
called by Dunlap. His specialty was, of course, the ' Old
Masters.' When any works of art of native origin were
offered for sale, it may be said, in passing, they were generally
found in the shops of frame-makers. One of PafF's treasures,
a small ' Last Supper by Michael Angelo,' which the writer
remembers to have seen at auction under the superintendence of
its owner, was claimed to be original by PafF, because, on the
pavement of the room in which this scene is represented, a
line of stones equal in number to the letters of the name, stood
for Buonarotti. It is needless to say that PafF proved the
authenticity of other originals by similar evidence. But as
' Michael PafF, Esq.,' will appear again in these pages, he is
dropped for the present.

Last of all these agencies comes Fashion, the fickle goddess.
Being an important factor in the art history of all times and

FASHION IN ART. 67

countries, she claims consideration. Two phenomena in all
lands attest the influence of Fashion on the development of
Art : one, an appreciation of foreign art at the expense of
native art ; and the other, diverse popular theories of art which
arrest or pervert the natural taste for it. In ancient Rome,
for example, Greek art and artists were ever in fashion. But
we need not go so far back— take Italy in the Renaissance
epoch, where the taste for art, outside of ecclesiastical authority,
was governed by the fashion for the antique. Early in the
eighteenth century, Claude Lorraine, Poussin, and Le Brun,
born in France, went to Italy (as afterwards West, Leslie, and
Trumbull, born on the American soil, went to England), to
study and practise art. The Italian school was fashionable in
France for nearly the whole of the eighteenth century, until
Diderot inspired the French public with the merits of local
artists, thus bringing the native school into favour. We know
the tyranny of the ' David ' school under the Empire, born of a
Roman sentiment, and which impeded the growth of domestic
sentiment in art inaugurated by Greuze. In England, near the
close of the last century — where Richard Wilson, its great land-
scapist, lived, like Shakespeare, scarcely known to his generation,
except by his peers — the fashion for ' Old Masters ' prevailed until
Reynolds, Gainsborough, and Hogarth became glories of the
nation, and enabled the British school of art to be established in
the present century. What could infant America do — a colonial
dependence of England, using the same language, taught by its
thinkers, and imitating its customs — but remain artistically in the
orthodox fashion ? ' Old Masters,' of course, became its accepted
standards ; its first lisps in art culture were in honour of their
works, or those supposed to be such ; the sanction of amateur-

68 LIFE OF A. B. BURJND.

ship consisted in the admiration or possession of some old canvas
claimed to have come from the hands of Raphael, Michael
Angelo, or Correggio. Such is fashion in art. Next in order
come one-sided views and standards of excellence, based on
theories more or less crude or ingenious growing out of techni-
calities, colouring, and drawing. Conspicuous among these are
undue admiration of ' pre-Raphaelites,' on account of superior
c earnestness ; ' Impressionism, a reaction against excessive de-
tail, equally as misguiding as the opposite extreme;* decora-
tive distinctions that serve as mere screens for carelessness,
indisposition to study, and inadequate labour ; and personal
ascetic preferences, all of which more or less mislead and pervert
the public intellect. But as fashion in art will be further illus-
trated, I pass on to other signs and means of native art
development.

* A distinguished explorer of Africa, M. Mizon, on his return to France,
brought with him a young negress, twelve years of age, called Sanabon, who
became for a time quite a favourite in society. One day she was taken to see
pictures in the Goupil gallery, containing works depicting various subjects. On
being asked what she saw, she readily and correctly replied trees, men, and
animals, as these happened to be noticeable on the canvas. In an adjoining room
were the works of an 'Impressionist.' Led to one of these placed on an easel
and being asked the same question, she hesitated a long time ; she walked up to
the picture and looked behind it, and finally urged to answer, she replied, ' It is a
horse.' The intention of the artist was to represent the margin of a pool, where
a woman was washing clothes, with a child standing alongside of her.

6 9

CHAPTER VI.

Engraving for Business Purposes — Hatters' Cards, Lottery Tickets, Diplomas,
Ball Tickets, and Horses — Bank-note Engraving — Drawings of Vignettes —
The American Landscape — Prospectus by Bryant — James Smillie — ■' Musidora '
and 'Ariadne.'

OWEVER dignified or exalted a public individual
may be, however refined the process by which art
renders the character or beauty of a given subject,
both are sure to be pressed into the service of business and
p^lf. For example, the first international exhibition held in
New York displayed busts of Washington and Henry
Clay in white soap, while, if I am not mistaken, the
same exhibition contained a Scripture subject in bas-relief,
including a figure of the Saviour, modelled in butter, and
claiming position as a work of art. In the Paris International
Exhibition of 1868, to which Americans contributed, the Presi-
dent of an establishment in our country devoted to bank-note
engraving and printing, incensed at the non-admission of his
manufacture among the fine - art productions of the world,
threatened the direst consequences. My father's work had not
been long before the public before his graver was called upon
in analogous directions. Applications were soon made to him
for business cards. ' As our American artist had to cater to
commercial wants, so had Hogarth in his time. Here is a card
of Theodore Clark, " Hat-maker, corner of Chatham and Pearl
Streets," and one of "J. Wilson, superior beaver hat, 160

70 LIFE OF J. B. BUR AND.

Broadway, N.Y.," with particular instructions, carefully printed,
how to take care of a beaver hat in case it got wet in a rain-
storm.'* Then followed lottery tickets, diplomas, ball tickets,
and engravings of horses. A case of the latter kind resulted in
full-length portraits of two famous racers, ' Eclipse ' and ' Lady
Lightfoot.' But the most striking as well as worthy employ-
ment of his burin in this sense was bank-note engraving,
already a prosperous business on account of the superior quality
of its processes, by which counterfeiting is rendered at least
difficult. The antecedent experience of the country with con-
tinental money rendered a new style of engraved currency
imperative, and henceforth a rapid development of bank-note
engraving. Much of the engraver's time, consequently, during
this period was devoted to this occupation. What qualified
him for it was not alone mere technical skill, but his ability in
composing and drawing suitable designs, called vignettes. Again,
his elder brother, Cyrus Durand, possessing rare mechanical genius,
had invented a geometrical lathe by which complicated linear
designs for bank-notes were produced, so delicate and intricate
that counterfeiting was supposed to be rendered nearly impossible.
The two brothers, accordingly, were induced by a competent
business man to form a co-partnership, under the title of
A. B. & C. Durand & Co. (1824). The work of the firm
soon surpassed that of similar establishments. All that is here
necessary to state, in connexion with art, is that the vignettes
executed by my father gave fresh impulse to the business. Their
subjects, consisting of drawings of antique figures associated with
well-known American personages, symbolising local institutions
and pursuits, proved to be novel and ' taking,' as the reader
* Asher Brown Durand, by Barnet Phillips.

BANK-NOTE VIGNETTES.
Reproduced from the Or^nal Drawings in the possession of J. Durand.

burin
The an

,6yi
ome

.fed,
a rain-
ets,
itter kind resulted in
ers, ' Eclipse ' and ' Lady-
well as worthy employ-
bank-note engraving,
count of the superior quality
rfeitina ed at least

-ce of the nth con-

style of engraved currency
iopment of bank-note

.«:.[TT5M01V >JTOVl-^A^ nsec l uentl y' durin §
atipiv WM Qualified

kill, but his ability in

Again,

ate
ble,

tie of

firm

is here

ignettes

Their

.ciated with

.institutions

; ng,' as the reader

a W

.roved t

'hillips.

Gonpilfrr;

BANK-NOTE VIGNETTES. 71

may comprehend by the following examples : Neptune drawn
by prancing horses, with a ship under full sail in the back-
ground ; again, a stalwart mechanic, with a cogwheel at his feet,
welcoming Neptune as he comes out of the water to greet him ;
Archimedes on a cloud lifting the world with a lever, its fulcrum
being a supposed American mountain peak, with a canal lock at
its base ; a pretty female figure representing ' Justice,' a sword in
one hand and a pair of scales in the other, with a bust of Wash-
ington behind her on a pedestal ; Franklin, seated on a chair, in
relief against clouds streaked with lightning, and at his feet an
open book in which we read ' Franklin's Works : Mind your
business ; ' a graceful female figure holding a flagon and cup,
quenching the thirst of the American eagle ; another holding a
torch which illuminates the globe ; Hercules slaying the Hydra ;
also the Laocoon, of doubtful business meaning, but all in honour
of banks and every sort of occupation. More familiar with
antique art than any of his co-designers, his vignettes exhibit a
wide range of fancy, with a certain degree of grace and elegance
in the figures which, appealing to natural instincts for beauty,
made them attractive to the most practical minds. One of my
father's correspondents had written to him that ' Bank officers
want something serious on their notes ; ' while another adds,
' Bank presidents say that they have never seen anything like
them.' The Chemical Bank of New York orders a plate with
the portrait of Van Buren, then President of the United States,
together with the figure of a chemist in a laboratory, both for the
margin of a bank-note, with an eagle for the vignette ; in report-
ing this order to my father, who was out of town, his partner
writes that the president of the bank desires 'to have the eagle
present a ferocious, spirited aspect ; "I want you," he says, "to tell

72 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

Durand to give him the real steel-trap look." ' About ninety of
the originals of these vignettes have been preserved, and whoever
looks at them cannot but regret that delicate art of this descrip-
tion should have been bestowed on productions of so little
account. But they were remunerative, and may be considered
in the same light as the fine art of old times bestowed on the
decoration of armour, jewelry, and ecclesiastical utensils.

In 1832 my father's interest in bank-note engraving had
ceased. Rival companies had been organized which, rendering
competition more and more disagreeable, and involving extra
efforts on his part, worried him greatly. He feared the
absorption of his energies by work he considered monotonous,
to say nothing of the diversion from subjects for his graver
which he preferred, like the portraits executed by him for the
National Portrait Gallery. Moreover, in his leisure moments,
he was constantly painting, and gradually losing a taste for
engraving. It remains to notice only such works by him as
denote the indifference of the public for work of a more ideal
import.

As early as 1830 he engaged in an enterprise — based on a
supposed public interest in native scenery — called The American
Landscape, intended to be a serial publication of engravings
after pictures of well-known localities by native artists. Mr.
Bryant furnished the descriptive text. The prospectus com-
posed by this eminent poet is here given. It reveals the origin
and purpose of the undertaking, as well as the illusion under
which its projectors laboured : —

' In a country like ours, rich in every class of natural scenery, it
is matter of surprise that no successful effort has been made to accomplish
a series of accurate views, so ample as to give an adequate idea of the

BANK-NOTE VIGNETTES.

Reproduced from the Original Drawings in the possession of J. Durand.

YD.

>ok." bout ninety of

rved, and whoever
e art of this desc
eductions of so little
ad may be consid
s bestowed
istical utensils.

engraving
ized which, rendt
jvolving ext
He feared the
jnsidered monotor
ubjects for his graver
.m&MPjXi ffSQftlgfifed by him for the

W*a.t> v, RS^ , Wnents,

losing a taste
ks by hini
more i<

based on a

led The American

; - ravings

ists. Mr.

•ctus CO

the origin

under

enery, it
to accomplish

a of the

rJMffl

GoupilBra

BRYANTS PROSPECTUS. 73

aspect of our landscapes, and so well executed as to be worthy of a place
in the portfolio of the discerning collector.

1 There is scarcely any part of Great Britain, or even of all Europe,
in the least distinguished for peculiar or striking scenery which has not
been entered by the observing artist, the numerous productions of whose
pencil, multiplied by the assistance of the graver, have been sought for at
home and abroad. Nature is not less liberal of the characteristics of
beauty and sublimity in the new world, than in the old. The perception
of her charms is not less quick and vivid among our countrymen, nor will
we believe that there is wanting either taste to appreciate the truth and
effect with which her features are copied, or willingness to reward those
who execute the task with success.

' On the contrary, the embellishments of our "Annuals " and the avidity
with which they, as well as similar foreign publications have been sought,
for the sake of the engravings they contain, are alone a sufficient proof
that there is no want of competent talent among our artists, nor of taste
in the community to ensure the most successful results to such an
undertaking.

' These considerations have given confidence to the proprietors of the
American Landscape to enter upon the present undertaking. They now
present to the public the first number of a series of views intended to
embrace some of the most prominent and interesting features of our
varied scenery.'

Only one number was published, containing six engravings,
all by my father : ' Weehawken,' after an aquarelle by Bennett ;
' Falls of the Sawkill,' by the same artist ; ' Winnipisiogee Lake,'
by Cole ; ' Fort Putnam,' by R. W. Weir ; ' Catskill Mountains,'
and ' Delaware Water Gap,' after a picture painted by the
engraver. The undertaking proved a failure, accompanied
with loss. The engravings, it must be noted, are inferior in
merit to others of the same hand, especially when compared
with the admirable productions afterwards of Mr. James Smillie,
who, then a young man, was employed by my father to etch the

74 LIFE OF A. B. DURJND.

' Fort Putnam.' In obtaining information on this point, his
son, Mr. James B. Smillie, favours me with the following note,
giving the only additional circumstances worth preserving in
connexion with this abortive undertaking : —

' The little incident in the history of our fathers, of which you asked
me to make a note, is briefly this : My father's family left Edinburgh,
emigrating to Quebec. About 1830 he reached New York on a voyage
of discovery, being then in his twenty- second year. He hoped to find in
that city a wider field for his efforts as a landscape-engraver than Quebec
offered. An utter stranger in the place, things went hard with him.
After two or three petty and unimportant plates, engraved for the
book-publishers, he met Mr. Robert W. Weir, then a young man just
returned from his art studies in Italy. Mr. Weir was interested in
the stranger and his work, and proposed that he should make an
engraving after one of his paintings, the print to be published as a
joint venture. (Think of the Arcadian simplicity, the sweet faith of
those two youths !) As my father had no place where he could work,
Mr. Weir offered him a window and a seat in his studio in Canal Street,
and there he engraved the plate " Convent Gate, Palestrina, near Rome."
Of course, as a commercial speculation, the publication was a complete
failure. My father was discouraged, home-sick, and anxious to get
back to his mother in Quebec. Winter was near, and such a journey
at that season promised all the rigours and hardships of a journey to
the North Pole. Your father saw proofs of the " Convent Gate," met
my father and asked him to engrave some plates for an illustrated serial
then projected. The offer seemed to present the desired opening to the
new field sought by the young Scotchman. A kindly Scotch woman
gave him shelter in an attic bedroom somewhere in Hudson Street,
without fire, in the month of December, where he etched the plate
" Fort Putnam, West Point." When the proof was presented to your
father it was accepted with flattering compliments and new commissions
were offered, but my father could no longer restrain his impatience to be
away. The sum of forty dollars was paid for about four weeks' work,
which was considered magnificent by the recipient. He bought for

< muswora: 75

himself some needed garments and set off upon his mid-winter journey
to Quebec, the whole distance being traversed in sleighs. This proved to
be the opening. Another year and my father returned to New York,
bringing his mother and younger brothers and sisters with him. From
that time on the success of the young engraver was an assured and
ever-growing one.'

The remaining works of the engraver, which attest both
the talent of the artist and the indifference of the public to
art beyond its comprehension, are those of ' Musidora ' and
'Ariadne,' occasionally alluded to in the preceding pages.
These works belong to the highest aims of artistic endeavour,
both being the fruit of the artist's admiration for the technical
skill of the masters of engraving in the rendering of flesh.
The former is an illustration of a fine passage in Thomson's
Seasons : Musidora, an ideal of female loveliness, relying upon
the privacy of a sequestered nook in the woods, divested of
clothing and about to bathe in a pool at her feet, stands in an
attitude of listening suspense, as if arrested by the sound of an
intruder. The design is wholly a product of ( inner conscious-
ness.' Lacking the technical resources of the draughtsman, his
powers were inadequate for such a subject. Just starting in his
career, with very little experience in drawing, coupled with the
impossibility of finding a model for a nude figure at that time,
the attempt was simply Quixotic. Naturally, the figure shows
defects in proportion and what is called modelling. Neverthe-
less, the landscape portion of the design is well executed, and
likewise the composition and treatment of the subject — the
attitude of the figure and its refined sentiment — two merits
that render the work as a whole satisfactory. It is proper to
state that, as far as remuneration for his labour is concerned^

76 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

not enough was obtained by the sale of impressions to pay for
paper and printing. Subsequently, the plate was borrowed by
the printer, and destroyed in a conflagration of his premises.

'Ariadne,' the second attempt of the same order — from a
masterpiece by Vanderlyn which came into my father's posses-
sion — was more successful from an artistic point of view.
This engraving, the merits of which are sufficiently known, was
finished about 1835. Notwithstanding that the original paint-
ing was always before him in his studio, he did not begin the
work until he had made a reduced copy of it in colour of the
size of the intended engraving, which he executed in a masterly
manner, especially in accuracy of drawing and modelling, as well
as in conveying the tone or effect of the original. But, as with
the ' Musidora,' the 'Ariadne,' undertaken solely for the love of
art, unconscious of pecuniary reward or public sympathy, was
also, commercially speaking, a failure. The public proved
scarcely more appreciative in the latter than in the former case.
Amateurs of engravings alone obtained copies of it. Printing,
an art by itself, was even then at a rudimentary stage. Skilled
workmen could not be had. More than one-half of the
impressions taken from the plate had to be destroyed on
account of imperfections, while the greater part remained
undisposed of even at the end of his career. The plate is
now in the National Museum at the Smithsonian Institution
in Washington.

To complete the foregoing details of the 'Ariadne,' the
following is added concerning the picture itself. Vanderlyn
painted the figure in Paris, where the requisite facilities for
executing a work of this class were readily attainable ; a
charcoal drawing from life remains to attest these resources.

by the

>m a

new.

h are s

him in his tlie

!e a reduced cop\ tne

ing, which he • masterly

uracy of drawing and modelling, as well
GjmfeA/--of the original. But, as with

empathy, was
■ved

tied

te is

tion

ne,' the

\derlyn

ncilities for

y attainable ; a

e resources.

'ARIADNE: 77

Of course, an engraving of a beautiful nude figure, however
ably executed and admired, could not be sold in America at
that time. The painter, after exhibiting ' Ariadne ' in New
York, where no purchaser presented himself, and in need of
money, disposed of it to my father for the sum of six hundred
dollars. Only a recognition of the superior artistic merits of
the work can explain an expenditure like that at this stage of
the engraver's career ! The picture, always a ' white elephant,'
subject above all other mishaps to that of fire, and on that
account kept stored for years in the Historical Society building,
fireproof, was ultimately sold at auction for five thousand dollars,
after more than thirty years' possession. Purchased by Mr.
Joseph Harrison of Philadelphia, his widow afterwards presented
it to the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, where it
now is.

The foregoing details, relating to the engraving period of my
father's life, belong to the professional side of it ; we have now
to pass on and review during this period some of the incidents
illustrative of his social experiences.

CHAPTER VII.

Aspect of New York in this period — 'The Lunch' Club — Out-door Painting —
Self-instruction — Affections — An Avenger of Wrong — Pseudo-reformers —
Sylvester Graham— The ' Mad Poet,' McDonald Clarke — Pupils— The
'Sketch Club' and its Objects — End of Engraving Career — Initiatory Efforts
at Painting.

THE early years of this period of my father's life may
be styled one of natural prosperity ; he was happily
married, and had a home of his own, the fruit of his
talent and industry. Through an increase of income due to
bank-note engraving, he was able in 1827 to build a house in
Amity Street, then far up-town, to which he removed from
the corner of Northmoore and Hudson Streets. New York
in ten years, and notably after the completion of the Erie
Canal, had expanded prodigiously. The hills and fields
crossed by him in 18 17 on his way from Grand Street to
St. Patrick's Cathedral, as mentioned in his autobiographical
sketch, no longer existed ; the former had been levelled, and
the ground was now covered with monotonous red-brick
structures. In 1830, Broadway, built up to Bleecker Street,
had become a thoroughfare traversed by omnibuses. Contoit
had long established a fashionable garden near the corner
of Franklin Street, in which he enjoyed a monopoly of the
sale of ice-cream, until Niblo, in his famous garden above
Prince Street, provided the same refreshment, together with
concerts, and, finally, theatrical entertainments. No place had
existed in the city where a lady on a shopping excursion

ASPECT OF NEW TORK. 79

could procure a lunch ; oyster cellars alone, below the level
of the sidewalk, afforded this refreshment to men. At
length, ' Thompson's,' in Broadway, below Park Place, supplied
the ladies with a saloon where tea, sandwiches, ice-cream,
and confectionery were to be had by anybody that appeared
to be respectable. John Jacob Astor, in his old age, occupied
a modest, unostentatious two-story house opposite Niblo's.
On the south side of Lafayette Place ' the finest houses in
the world ' were being erected, and visited on Sundays by
admiring crowds watching their progress to completion. This
section of the city soon became the realm of fashion : c Carroll
Place,' ' Leroy Place,' and, later on, ' Depau Row,' made
Bleecker Street its centre. Above Amity Street came the
old ' Potter's Field,' the burial - place of the poor, then
undergoing transformation into Washington Square, still
unfenced, and with tombstones still standing there. Beyond
the Square, on its north-eastern corner, rose a sandhill, the
property of c Sailor's Snug Harbour,' which, soon levelled,
gave way as usual to ' splendid ' houses, and especially to a
line of them nicknamed ' Presbyterian Row,' because built and
occupied by wealthy owners belonging to that Church. After
these came scattered country houses until the House of Refuge
was reached on what is now Madison Square, and also,
outside its walls, another burial - ground, chiefly filled with
the bodies of victims to the yellow fever of 1822. Such is
a faint glimpse of the New York landmarks of this district
in those days. Other aspects of the city at this epoch,
vestiges of bygone characteristics, furnished by Mr. Parke
Godwin in his Life of William Cullen Bryant, help to
complete the picture.

80 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

' Within the city the streets were narrow, and about as dirty as they
have ever since remained, but they were then frequented by loose pigs,
were badly lighted by rusty oil-lamps, and poorly watched by constables
in huge capes and leathern caps. . . . More compact than now, the
inhabitants were generally more intimately acquainted with one another.
Everybody knew everybody, and everybody took part in what was going
on. The resources of enjoyment — theatres, operas, concerts, balls, and
excursions — were limited ; but they were open to all. Family visiting
was common, so that it was easy to get into "society;" and the taverns
were not so much frequented by wayfarers as by residents, to whom they
answered the purpose of clubs and restaurants. Each of them, in fact,
had its special circle of gossips and clever men. All the celebrities of
the professions, the stage, or of literature were there to be met with;
and, seated at little tables on the well-sanded floor, with pipes in their
mouths and jugs of punch at their elbows, they discussed politics, books,
play-actors, and the events of social life.'

A club existed at this time, founded by Cooper, the
novelist, bearing the title of ' The Lunch ;' the official notice
to my father, advising him of his election into it, says, ' We
meet at Mrs. Jones', No. 300 Broadway.' Among its members
(mentioned by Mr. Godwin as belonging to the ' Bread-and-
Cheese Club ') were James Kent, Thomas Addis Emmett,
W. D. Griffin — lawyers ; Bryant, Hillhouse, Halleck, and
Sands — poets ; and Vanderlyn, Morse, Jarvis, and Dunlap —
artists. Jarvis's humour is said by Mr. Bryant to have been
' irresistible,' as may well be imagined by the stories he told,
narrated by Dunlap in his biography of that painter.

But neither prosperity nor social privileges diverted my
father from his professional pursuits. His leisure hours were
devoted to drawing or to painting from nature on his
Hoboken rambles. For this latter purpose he set his palette
before leaving his house in the city, and carried it, with a

PAINTING FROM NATURE. 81

home-made easel and camp-stool, to his favourite sketching-
ground. As far as I can learn, he was the first artist in the
country that painted direct from nature. ' Durand had been
a pioneer in engraving ; he was now a pioneer in another
very important branch of study, viz., that of painting care-
fully finished studies directly from nature out-of-doors. Before
his day our landscape-painters had usually made only pencil
drawings, or, at most, slight water-colour memoranda of the
scenes they intended to paint, aiding the memory by writing
on the drawing hints of the colour and effect. Cole, to be
sure, lived at Catskill, in full view of magnificent scenery,
and was endowed with a wonderful memory, so that he gave
an astonishing look of exact truth to many of his pictures
of American scenery ; but he rarely, if at all, up to that
period, painted his studies in the open air. Durand went
directly to the fountain-head, and began the practice of
faithful transcripts of " bits " for use in his studio ; and the
indefatigable patience and the sustained ardour with which
he painted these studies not only told on his elaborate works,
but proved a contagious influence, since followed by most of
our artists, to the inestimable advantage of the great land-
scape school of our country.' *

Other leisure hours were given as heretofore to study,
as two volumes in manuscript of this date, entitled Anatomical
Notes collected while attending the Lectures of Dr. Post —
1824, bear witness; both contain careful drawings of parts
of the human skeleton and muscular system. Another book,
a pocket volume, contains notes on the study of facial
expression, and still another on antique costume, the value
* Memorial Address by D. Huntington.

82 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

of which to him is apparent in the vignettes already
mentioned. He regularly attended the Drawing Societies
maintained by his professional brethren, and the American
Academy of Fine Arts, which possessed the collection of
casts from the antique ; also the school of the National
Academy of Design, in which he was both pupil and teacher.
Not a moment was lost. None of his compeers, perhaps,
pursued the study of art technically with more ardour and
enthusiasm. In his eagerness to profit by added resources
of all kinds, and with a family to support, and, moreover,
lacking that most essential of all knowledge — the economy
of one's forces — he at last broke down ; illness ensued which,
together with previous poor diet during his boyhood, brought
on dyspeptic troubles that never left him. A sound con-
stitution, however, atoned for dietetic infirmities, and this,
with more exercise and less work, brought back health, as
we shall see farther on.

Meanwhile, the horizon of his prosperity became clouded.
Trial and sorrow, that ' grief which to man is as certain
as the grave,' overtook him. Previous to moving into his
new house he lost his second child, and two years afterwards
my mother declined in health, which obliged him to remove
her to the highlands of New Jersey, and afterwards to Saint
Augustine in Florida, where in 1830 she breathed her last.
Her remains were brought back to her native place, Bloomfield,
New Jersey. This affliction obliged my father to break up
housekeeping the following year.

An engraving executed at this time, exhibiting him as an
avenger of wrong, may here be mentioned on account of the
means employed, and the success attending its publication. The

AN AVENGER OF WRONG. 83

object of it was to expose a wolf in sheep's clothing, the
person in question being a clergyman, and all the more successful
on that account. Better educated than ordinary men, familiar
with subtleties of sentiment unknown to other corrupters,
insinuating, and shielded by women, especially when a foreigner,
such an individual not only finds victims more readily, but
generally escapes punishment merely through dread of scandal.
An experience of this kind happening to a relative led my father
to warn the public against this person, and, at the same time, to
secure punishment in his own way. He thought that by en-
graving an accurate likeness of the offender, accompanying it with
a description of his character and career, and printing and circula-
ting this throughout the country, it would track him wherever he
went, and preclude further depredations. He was not mistaken,
as we see in the following document and its effects : —

' This portrait is published to identify the person with the true
character of one of the Basest of Men.

'X Y Z

a native of England, was educated a preacher in the Methodist connexion,
from which he was expelled for his crimes ; afterwards he became an
outlawed swindler, fled from England, leaving a wife and children, and
came to the United States, where he soon married again into a respectable
family, and is extensively known as a lecturer. He is classically educated
and, in appearance, a gentleman, but in fact a most accomplished
hypocrite. A volunteer in falsehood, none can be too base for his
purpose. He abandoned his second wife without cause of complaint
(which has led to the discovery of his real character and history), has
swindled his best friends, violated the most sacred bonds of Honour and
Affection, and, in short, is not only an Infidel in Religion but in every
moral principle of Society.

'Published for the benefit of the community by A. B. Durand,
New York, Dec. 8th, 1823.'

84 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

Nearly six years elapsed, when its purpose was attained, as we
see in the following letter sent from Bellevue Hospital : —

'Mr. A. B. Durand,

' Your revenge is complete. Hunted from Boston to New
Orleans, from E. to W. and from N. to S. of this northern American
continent by your persecution, I now — imbecile in mind and in body,
little better than a skeleton, fit only for an hospital where I may be killed
or cured — call upon you to be my friend. I know and feel that my
constitution of body can still be renovated. I am equally certain that
the spirit which inhabits this weak frame wants only a little time when
again connected with a sound body to be capable of exertion, and useful to
others and honourable to itself. The fate of an immortal being is in your
hands. Decide as you please. I am prepared for pardon or revenge.
Persecute me to death, or give me the power of again being what you
know I am capable of becoming. Imitate the God who made us both, or
be the devil of men's imagination. The bearer will bring you to me.'

My father was absent, and as nothing more was heard from
the offender, it is presumed that he died in Bellevue Hospital.
We now turn to personages of a different stamp.

No country rivals our own in the number of its pseudo
reformers, philanthropists, statesmen, and philosophers, mostly of
New England origin, all, generally speaking, cherishing some pet
idea or scheme which, in the so-called service of humanity, they
push to extremity. An analysis of their ability may thus be
formulated — one half-truth diluted in forty-nine parts of igno-
rance and fifty of energy. How much good they accomplish is
not always apparent ; how much mischief is known to their
victims. Some are honest and innocent ; the rest are more or
less stimulated by vanity, and are satisfied with acquiring a
popular recognition which, they think, will hand their names
down to posterity. Occasionally this belief is rewarded. The

SYLVESTER GRAHAM.

half-truth works its way, leavens the public lump, and fame
compensates its promulgator. Such is the happy fate of Sylvester
Graham, advocate and apostle of bran-bread. Scarcely a genera-
tion has passed since his disappearance, and his name is known
not only in his own land, but in Europe, in Asia, and in Africa,
wherever a dyspeptic missionary is found, and can get or make
the bran-bread which assists impaired digestion. The half-
truth, or theory of diet on which Graham's reputation rests,
consists, summarily stated, of abstinence from animal food, coffee,
tea, wine and spirits, and especially bolten flour ; in their place,
people should nourish themselves on vegetables, fruits, milk, cold
water, wheaten-grits, oatmeal mush, and above all, bread made of
flour not deprived of its bran. Graham lectured on this theory
throughout the country with enthusiasm and success. The fare of
innumerable private tables was changed in conformity therewith ;
meat was banished ; boarding-houses sprung up bearing his name
and devoted to his system of diet ; bakers filled their ovens with
bran-bread ; and influential editors, of whom Horace Greeley
is a specimen, became his partisans, and enforced the theory in
practice and in print. Overworked people, and especially those
of sedentary occupations, changed their food and habits, took
more exercise (which was probably the best detail of the theory),
and benefited accordingly. My father was one of them. As he
had formerly been somewhat indebted to Graham for intellectual
nutriment, he accepted his physical system, and for exercise
frequented the gymnasium conducted by Fuller, whose portrait
he engraved. Graham and my father knew each other as early as
1 8 12, and corresponded many years. Both, as youthful dreamers,
were addicted to poetry. ' My correspondents in the city,' says
Graham, in a letter of the above date, ' are very silent as to the

LIFE OF A. B. DURJND.

probable success of our poems.' A sample of the inspiration
of one of the ' poets ' has already been given ; in the absence of
verses by the apostle of bran-bread, the reader may judge of his
poetic temperament by the following extract from the above-
named letter : —

' It would indeed be ungrateful in me not to acknowledge that Nature
has been bountiful in her endowments to me, but oh, how mercurial, how
versatile, how strange a being has she made of me ! Serenely placid as
heaven, turbulent and gloomy as hell, gentle as a lamb, extravagant as
desperation, mild as the zephyr of summer, impetuous as the hurricane,
kind as mercy, sanguine as a tyrant !'

Time seems to have had no effect in toning down this sort
of internal ebullition. Thirteen years later he says : —

' Since I left you I have almost been in obscurity, scarcely knowing
what was going on in the world, especially that part of it most interesting
to me, Fine Arts and Literature ; I have been, it is true, in the neigh-
bourhood of a college, but Heaven deliver me from such a barren soil,
where every liberal feeling and cultivated taste must wither and be
blighted by the mildew of ignorance, bigotry, superstition and malice.
I have suffered the congregated calamities of disappointed and neglected
genius and have come little short of the fate of Chatterton!'

To obtain relief, and, perhaps, recognition of his genius, he
goes to Boston, the metropolis of Massachusetts : —

' I found no Academy of Arts, nor anything else in Boston worth
looking at. ... I visited Professor Everett, at his house in Cambridge,
and was treated with great politeness. I read him some of my poems,
and he thought that I might venture to put them in the hands of a
publisher without subscription. They have tucked a ten-dollar prize
on me in Boston for a poem (an " Ode to the Moon "), which I sent
without knowing a prize was offered, so that I can still say that I never
wrote for a prize.'

' THE MAD POET: 87

During the visit he is sadly afflicted by the death of a
brother poet : —

' The news of Lord Byron's death affected me tremendously ; my
spirits were exceedingly depressed ; for several weeks I could not feel
reconciled to it. It seemed as though half the world were swallowed
up by an earthquake, and the other half was in mourning for it. . . .
I think I shall yet set the world on fire with some publications if I live ! '

Fortunately for the world, circumstances did not favour the
fulfilment of this intention. And yet, the half-truth Graham
impressed on the minds of his contemporaries is attested by the
eternal association of his name with bran -bread. As a radical
change, however, in the diet of humanity, his system is a failure.
But he is a sign of the times he lived in ; reformer and philan-
thropist, he is a passing moral and intellectual phenomenon, as
with many others whose theories and predictions are falsified by
knowledge and experience. Look into his mind, and we see how
slight were his qualifications for the role he undertook. The
only unfinished plate my father left is an unsuccessful attempt
at mezzotint engraving in the portrait of his friend, Sylvester
Graham.

Another character, in similar relationship at this time, is
McDonald Clarke, called the ' Mad Poet.' My father be-
friended this eccentric personage by giving him a table in his
atelier where he could write his letters and verses, and come and
go as he pleased. He also painted his portrait, or, rather, a
sketch of him. I am indebted to the Rev. Dr. L. P. Clover, then
a pupil of my father's, for the following reminiscences of ' Sandy
Clarke,' as the ' Mad Poet ' signed his name in his correspondence.

' Poor Clarke (you must remember him, for he made your father's
rooms his head-quarters), died the victim of a cruel hoax, and now lies

LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

buried in Greenwood. It may well be said of him that he had not where
to lay his head. He kept a diary, which was left lying about where any
visitor so disposed could peruse its contents, consisting of dreams quite
amusing, and occasionally, though rarely, very indelicate, along with
unfinished scraps of poetry, wild, visionary conceits, comments on books
and pictures, without any idea probably that they would ever be read by
anybody but himself — all recorded with a degree of faithfulness and
honesty sometimes startling.

' One morning Mr. William Page, the artist, who knew Clarke well,
and had doubtless heard of one of his recorded dreams, came in and asked
to see the diary. It was handed to him ; he read it over carefully,
frowned, and, without saying a word, put it into the stove. Shortly after
Mr. Page went out Mr. Clarke entered, and, looking around for his diary,
complained that he could not find it. " Have you seen anything of it ? "
said he, addressing me. " Yes," I replied ; " Mr. Page has just read it,
and, being displeased with an indelicate reference to a member of his
family, has burned it." " Oh," said Clarke, with the innocence of a
child, " can that be possible ! He should have remembered that it was
only a dream." As I relinquished engraving, by advice of your father,
and devoted myself to painting, Clarke afterwards sat to me for a
small portrait, a rough sketch of the man on panel, but very like and
characteristic. On the back of it Clarke wrote in paint the following :
"Finished November 16, 1841. Clover's portrait of me is the only
correct likeness ever painted. McDonald Clarke, 12 o'clock noon." *

* Now in the possession of Dr. Clover's son, Commander Richardson Clover
of the United States Navy. The following verses are taken from a short poem
composed by Clarke on the completion of the portrait : —

' No wonder that they think me mad,
If mine is such a mournful face —
So very desolate and sad —
So furrowed with affliction's trace !
That forehead seems like a tombstone broke
By a midnight thunder-stroke,
While the scant and withered hair
Shrouds sweet hopes — wildly buried there.

< THE MAD POET: 89

' The simplicity of Clarke's nature was illustrated in nothing more
fully than in the sad circumstances growing out of his painful and startling
death. When I had my studio on Fulton Street, over the picture-frame
store of Messrs. Greig and Campbell, opposite St. Paul's Churchyard,
Clarke burst into the room one day and exclaimed, "■ I am going to be
married." Taken by surprise I asked the name of the lady, and when
the marriage was to take place. " The time is not yet definitely settled,"
said Clarke ; " but it is coming off soon. I passed their carriage, mother
and daughter together ; both bowed to me very graciously. The young
lady is the daughter of a well-known gentleman, president of a bank, quite
wealthy ; and the mother evidently, from her manner, approves of the
engagement." Some young men, boarders at the Clarendon House,
having heard these stories, determined, it is said, to convert the whole
thing into a joke, being unable to dissuade or ridicule the subject from
Clarke's mind. A letter was written, purporting to have emanated from
the father of the young lady and addressed to Clarke. In this letter a
high estimate was expressed for the genius and talent of Clarke, and the
high honour such an alliance would be to any family, however wealthy and
distinguished, adding further that he, the father of the young lady, would
wish to have the wedding conducted in such style as would reflect credit
upon all the parties concerned. Unwilling to offer a loan, the father
of the young lady thought it would be more consistent and dignified if the
prospective groom would make a note for a given time, and present it at

' No wonder that the women turn
Away when I have wished to wed,
And this poor heart is doomed to burn
With passions that light up the dead,
Aye, dead — for no congenial mind,
In all this cold, wide world, I find !

' Dash your brush across that brow —
Let not the far-off" ages see
How sadly 1 am altered now ;
How harsh the world has dealt with me;
How hearts that I would fain embrace
Have frown'd and darkened up that face ! '

90 LIFE OF J. B. BUR AND.

the bank to be cashed. Absurd as this plan was, the note was prepared
and presented to the president, who, upon an explanation of the facts
in the case, became very angry, pronounced the whole thing a vile
imposition, and declared that no one but a madman or demented could
be so imposed upon. It was a terrible blow to Clarke, who was of
too sensitive a nature to rally. Rushing from the bank, the victim of a
heartless joke, he was found by the watchman that night on his knees in
front of St. Paul's Church, taken to a place of confinement, locked up,
and there died. The next morning, when it was found that the victim
was Clarke, the whole community was shocked, and the perpetrators of
the cruel hoax were taught a lesson they never forgot. More than
fifty years have passed since the monument erected to the memory of
McDonald Clarke over his remains in Greenwood was placed where it
now stands, the expense of which was contributed in part, it is said,
by those who innocently, but with no less fatal than guilty consequences,
engaged in the perpetration of a heartless, cruel, practical joke.'

Dr. Clover speaks of himself as a pupil of my father in the
art of engraving. J. W. Casilear and two other pupils pre-
ceded him — J. W. Paradise and G. W. Hatch. Besides these,
Pekenino, as we have seen, occupied a place in his atelier, also
M. Boilly, a French stipple engraver and son of the distinguished
painter of that name belonging to the French school of art of
the latter part of the last century. Several applications were
made by others desirous of becoming pupils, among which was
that of the late John F. Kensett, the eminent landscapist. But
none were accepted, as my father contemplated abandoning the
practice of engraving.

' The XXI.,' or Sketch Club, demands extended notice in
these pages, on account of the social influence it exercised in
the development of the American school of art. It is not too
much to say that the start the school obtained at this period
is due to the men who belonged to this Club. The following

THE SKETCH CLUB. 91

brief history of it, abbreviated and transcribed from a paper
read before the Century Club,* is here reproduced : —

In [825 the students of art then inhabiting New York
formed an association for the practice of drawing. Obtaining
a room in the old almshouse building in the park, in the rear
of the City Hall, in which the collection of casts imported for
the American Academy of the Fine Arts had been lodged, they
set up a lamp and began work, devoting their evenings to it."j"
Out of this association sprung the National Academy of Design.
Meanwhile the Annual, as described on foregoing pages, became
a fashionable publication, the effect of which was to bring
together artists and the literary men engaged in its preparation.
An acquaintanceship sprung up between them which led to the
best results. This companionship marks the incipient growth
in the community of that quiet, refined, intellectual force
generated by the mingling together on common ground of
men of all professions, wherein, as Franklin says, ' Conversation
warms the mind, enlivens the imagination, and is continually
starting fresh game.' No society is better adapted to this pur-
pose than that of artists. Their minds free of a conventional
bias, indifferent to exciting questions like those of politics and
business, and always observing nature, they possess a fund of
ideas and experiences which, in conversation, freshen the minds
of practical people with whom they come in contact, and make
them excellent company. All this time the artists kept up
their evening drawing - meetings. Occasionally their friends
would drop in, while certain amateurs of art were invited to

* Prehistoric Notes of the Century Club, by J. Durand. Published by the
Century Club, 1882.

\ See Annals of the National Academy of Design, by T. S. Cummings.

92 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

join the circle, thus providing, through this pleasant intercourse,
the idea of a more extended social club, which idea, then sug-
gested, came to maturity in 1829. The object of the organiza-
tion was as follows : —

1. The encouragement of social and friendly feelings among

the members by occasional meetings.

2. Mutual improvement in the art which is chiefly to be

practised at these meetings.

3. The production of an Annual.

The Club was of course governed by bye-laws. \ The first
law prescribed meetings at each other's houses every Friday
evening. The second prescribed sketches, the subject for which
was to be selected by the entertainer, although each artist was
free to choose one according to his fancy. It is recorded of
one artist that ' he drew what pleased him because he was too
lazy to read the poem which furnished the subject for the rest.'
Regular meetings were announced in one of the daily news-
papers in this cabalistic form : ' S. C. ; S. F. B. M.,' indicating
that the Sketch Club was to meet that evening at the house
of S. F. B. Morse. These capitals seemed to have excited public
curiosity, calling forth letters to the editor as to their purpose.
One writer insinuated that they summoned together a gambling
club. Mr. R. C. Sands, himself probably the author of the
insinuation, wrote the following reply : —

' To the Editor of the " Standard."

'My Dear Sir, — I am exceedingly grieved to see by your
paper of this morning that you have fallen into an enormous error respecting
the nature and object of the Selebrated Cociety to which I have the
honour to belong, and the existence of which is occasionally made known
to the public through the press by the apparition of its formidable initials,

CLUB INCIDENTS. 93

S. C. You appear to be somewhat alarmed at the portentous aspect of
the prodigy ; but, my dear friend, let me entreat you to calm your
uneasiness. We S. C.'s are not gamblers, and we entertain as virtuous
and laudable a horror of such iniquities as any of our fellow-countrymen.
How should it be otherwise ? Are we not Sober Citizens and Sincere
Christians ? Do we not Sleep Coundly, Sing Cheerfully, Separate
Coberly, Speak Censibly, Suffer Courageously, and Sup Comfortably ?
You seem to think we Shuffle Cards too, but upon the Spotless Character
of an S. C. it is not so ; and the man who says it utters a Scandalous
Calumny.

' Since you manifest so much anxiety on the subject, however, I
will tell you the honest truth ; we are, in fact, a Secret Combination
of Sworn Conspirators; and Social Conviviality is but a Simulated Cover
for the Sacred Cecrecy of our Solemn Cabal.

' Your Sensible Correspondent,

' S. C

The third bye-law, of a sumptuary order, and the most im-
portant, was intended to prevent extravagant entertainments,
which, if tolerated, would set a bad example, defeat the object
of the Club, and render it inaccessible to artists whose incomes
did not warrant display of this kind. An incident occurred
in this sense which shows how the overwhelming spirit of the
age was exorcised for the time being, but which in after years,
in the development of the Century Club, has obtained the
mastery.

Tradition has it that a wealthy man found his way into
the Club. As usual, a meeting took place at his house. Imagine
the horror of the members when, on opening the folding-doors,
a superb supper appeared before them on a table, at which they
were expected to sit down. Tradition says that the members
refused to do so, declaring that they would eat standing.
Unfortunately for tradition a printed record of the event is

94 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

extant, declaring that the members concluded to take their
seats and be comfortable. Still, the honour of the Club was
outraged, and it was quietly arranged to get rid of this luxurious
member by dissolving the Club. No more meetings were called
in the regular way. After an interval of eight months the next
minutes, showing reconstruction, read as follows : ' Minutes of
the Sketch Club, reorganized December 17, 1830. — At a
meeting of the Sketch Club, held pursuant to notice in the
Council Chamber of the National Academy of Design, it was
unanimously agreed that the Sketch Club be considered extinct,
and that the members present (of whom there were only five)
form themselves into a committee of the whole for the purpose
of organizing it anew on a more suitable plan.' A new code
of laws was at once drawn up (of which there is no copy
preserved), officers were elected, and the Council Chamber of
the National Academy was fixed upon as the place of meeting
every Friday evening ; an initiation fee of five dollars was im-
posed, and the appointment of a caterer and treasurer restricted
to one person. At the meeting held the following week the
rest of the members, with the exception of the objectionable
one, were present, and the Sketch Club, as it continued to the
end, was finally established. In 1831 the meetings at each
other's houses were resumed. It is well to notice that the title
of the Sketch Club among its members was ' The XXI.,'
which number was probably first fixed upon as the limit of
membership. Afterwards it was extended to twenty-five.

One of the intellectual entertainments, in accordance with its
purposes and attempted to be carried out, was drawing. But
this did not last long. Drawing is of too absorbing a nature to
allow an artist to wield the pencil and at the same time to sit

AMUSEMENTS. 95

still and pay no attention to the talk and laughter of those
around him. Indeed, such is the verdict of the minutes, for
one member is reported as complaining of ' his feelings being so
much excited, and his thoughts so diverted from his subject,
that for the last quarter of an hour he has been sketching nothing
but peanuts and sweet-almond shells instead of " Sweet Auburn,
the loveliest village of the plain." Frequent reference is made,
again, to the publication of the Annual, an idea which did not
long survive. In 1832 the following resolution was passed:
' That the Sketch Club publish a New York Annual for the
year 1833, and that Mr. Durand be requested to superintend
the embellishments ; also that the Corresponding Secretary be
instructed to write to Mr. Verplanck (then in Congress) and
request his aid in superintending the literary execution of the
work.' Subsequently Messrs. Bryant, Neilson, and Emerson
were appointed the literary Committee to have charge of the
embryo Annual, and this is the last official record of it.

Song and instrumental music are often recorded in the
minutes of the Sketch Club, while there are similar notices of
stories, discussions, mirth, and philosophy. We find Mr.
Bryant propounding ' a sage notion that the perfection of
bathing is to jump headforemost into a snowbank.' Scientific
inspiration shows itself in this question : ' Does heat expand
the days in summer ?' Mr. Verplanck throws antiquarian
light ' on the precise form and capacity of antediluvian butter-
churns.' It would take too much space to mention every
instance of Sketch Club jollity. One more example must be
given on account of its novelty. In the minutes, always penned
with waggish intent, it is recorded that ' a penance was imposed
on Mr. Sands, Dr. Neilson, and the Secretary' — at this time

96 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

Mr. John Inman — consisting of impromptu doggerel verses,
each verse to contain the word ' extract,' and ' Extract ' to be
the subject.

Mr. Sands began :

' Many elegant Extracts there be,
Such as Syrup of Sarsaparilla ;'

Mr. Inman replies :

' A sort of a shrub or a tree,
That is found in the Isles of Manilla.'

Mr. Inman again :

' Now, though Extracts are potent, they say
There's no faith in the word of a woman : '

Mr. Sands

Dr. Neilson

Mr. Sands

' That the Extracts she makes, every way
Are doubtful, is unknown to no man.'

1 Extracting a grinder they say
May be done with both profit and pleasure;'

' But yet there's the devil to pay
If your gum-bone is cracked beyond measure.'

And so on until the vein runs dry.

All this belongs to the earliest years of the Sketch Club.
In 1831 the members, about thirty, numbered thirteen artists,
including those connected with artistic pursuits. The rest were
nearly all literary men, among whom must be mentioned W. C.
Bryant, John Howard Payne, and R. C. Sands, poets ; G. C.
Verplanck, Hamilton Fish, Charles Fenno Hoffman, John
Inman, William Emerson, Dr. Neilson, and others of literary
and artistic habits and sympathies. A little later two or three
lawyers of similar tastes, one merchant, and two clergymen —
Rev. Drs. Dewey and Bellows — joined the Club. These men

CLUB INFLUENCE. 97

collectively may be styled the fountain-head of the subsequent
prosperity of local art. At this time the public cared nothing
for art, nor did any of the newspapers from an editorial
point of view ; the annual exhibitions of the National
Academy of Design, held in the upper story of Clinton Hall,
and gradually becoming the fashion, simply afforded a new
public amusement, were noticed accordingly in the journals
of the day, and forgotten as soon as closed. Whenever
Art in other relations appealed to the public ear, at the
meetings of societies or at festivals, the two clerical members
of the Club acted as its spokesmen, and, besides this, they
often advocated and interpreted its utility in the pulpit. The
introduction into the Club of the merchant, Mr. Luman
Reed, who had proved his interest in native art by a
spontaneous and liberal encouragement of many of its artist
members, is most significant ; it marks the tendency of
wealth in that direction — in brief, the support of home art
by the all-powerful commercial spirit. In the next chapter
the services rendered and the example set by the most
eminent patron of American art will be narrated. One
detail in the working of the old Sketch Club remains to be
noticed, on account of the effect it produced in preventing
the election of new members, and that is, the power of one
black ball to exclude a candidate ; it was the exclusion of
members by this over-careful means that led mainly to the
formation of the Century Club.

We now pass on to certain details belonging to the end
of my father's career as an engraver. Successful as he had been
in this profession, it must be stated that he was not fond
of it. He soon discovered that he could do better. Time

9 8 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

and experience had changed his aspirations. He found that
the world of New York was bigger than that of his father's
workshop in Jefferson Village, and that engraving afforded
only a limited field for the exercise of his artistic aptitudes.
He accordingly did not wait long to test his capacity in
other lines of art ; indeed, long before the complete establish-
ment of his reputation as engraver he began to paint as a
pastime. The engravings of pictures by famous painters,
the knowledge of art and of celebrated artists he picked up
in a desultory manner from books and conversation, prompted
him very early to try experiments with the brush as he had
before done with the graver. Without instruction, as in his
first attempts at engraving and when he made his own tools,
he bought a canvas, ground his colours, set his palette, and
began to paint. His initiatory efforts — as usual with impatient
novices — seem to have been 'high art.' As early as 1826,
according to the catalogue of the first exhibition of the
National Academy of Design, he appears before the public
with a 'Mary Magdalen at the Sepulchre;' in 1827 with
' Samson shorn of his Locks by the Philistines while asleep
in the arms of Delilah;' in 1828 with a landscape compo-
sition; in 1829, ' Hagar in the Wilderness;' and in 1 83 1
with another ' Samson and Delilah,' when, probably because
nobody would buy these works, he abandoned this scriptural
strain altogether. In 1832 he exhibits landscapes, and from
that time on the same class of works, together with portraits
and local historical subjects, the natural product of his talent
now finding public appreciation and patronage. In 1833
he exhibited a portrait group of three children, which, com-
bining figures and landscape of nearly equal interest, proved

END OF ENGRAVING CAREER. 99

a novelty, and, as he says in a letter to a friend, c a very
difficult task.' It was successful, however, from an artistic
point of view. Two portraits were painted by him this same
year : one of ' John Manesca,' a French teacher, who estab-
lished the system of teaching that language afterwards pirated
by Ollendorf ; and another of c Col. Aaron Ogden,' Governor
of New Jersey, now in the New York Historical Society
collection. These portraits brought him many commissions.
Thus encouraged, he devoted himself less and less to
engraving, and more and more to painting, until, finally,
the former profession was entirely abandoned. He had long
looked forward to this end. His labour at engraving,
generally portraits, proved monotonous, while that employed
on bank-note engraving, although more profitable, got to be
merely mechanical drudgery. His artistic feeling would not
allow him to become a mere plodder for money. It may
truly be said of him that, in relation to bank-note engraving,
he abandoned a fortune for love of art. Fortunately for
him, as well as for the art of the country, Luman Reed
appeared, and converted a mere desire to become a painter
into a fixed determination. We now turn to some account
of this eminent American patron of art.

IOO

CHAPTER VIII.

Luman Reed — The Service ofWealth — The Commercial Man — Early American
Artists — Business Career of Mr. Reed — His Taste for Art — Our Artist visits
Washington — General Jackson and his Portrait — Mr. Reed's relations with
G. W. Flagg — Souvenirs of Mr. Hackett — House and Gallery of Mr. Reed
— Illness and Death — Tributes by Cole, Mount, and Flagg— Effects of Mr.
Reed's Example — The New York Gallery of Fine Arts.

WEALTH, in the old world derived from the people
by taxation or otherwise, and disbursed by Church
or State for public benefit — for Religion, Education,
Charity, Science, or Art — is, in the United States, appropriated
to all these civilising agencies by the ' Children of Commerce,'
as Gouverneur Morris calls them ; or, in other words, by private
individuals who, obtaining wealth by trade or industry, solely by
their own exertions, expend it voluntarily for public advantage.
All public institutions in our country, outside of Government
organization, exist directly or indirectly through the muni-
ficence of men of this stamp ; all are so many monuments of
a public spirit hitherto unprecedented in history. New social
conditions seem to have rendered of supreme importance a
hitherto subordinate force in society. To comprehend it we
have only to see how the commercial man expends his wealth
in gratification of his tastes and aspirations.

The motives which govern him in this respect, born out of
instinct and experience rather than out of knowledge, custom, or
example, are at first purely personal. Life being to him practical
in the highest degree, a struggle with competitors as energetic as

THE COMMERCIAL MAN. 101

himself, having no time or thought to bestow on nice distinctions
of fitness or propriety, his ideal aim is to get the best of every-
thing. Of the creature comforts he must have the best, whether
it be food, drink, or clothing. If he builds a house, it must be a
palace ; the choicest woods and designs must be employed in its
decoration, the furniture must be of the finest polish, and the
curtains and carpets the richest products of the loom. A library
being an indispensable adjunct to a fine house, its shelves must
display the English classics along with the works of authors most
in vogue, in the most elegant bindings. If pictures are bought,
they are the works of distinguished foreign artists of world-wide
fame, whose merit is evident by the prices their works command.
Aware of the importance of culture, his children must enjoy the
great advantages their father lacked, and must go to the best and
dearest schools ; with respect to religion, his family must attend
a fine church with an eloquent preacher, and occupy the best pew
in it.* Ideals of this stamp are to be gratified materially and
rapidly.

But the intellect of the commercial man is not thus limited ;
he cherishes nobler ideals and acts under higher impulses.
Personal longings being satisfied, he concerns himself with the
welfare of society. His sympathies are warm and active.
Crime, misery, suffering, poverty, and disease are evils always
apparent that need no special study ; he belongs to societies for
the repression of crime, superintends and founds every sort of
hospital and asylum. Fully sensible of the value of religion to

* 'In securing precedence in the house of the Lord, the control of money
superseded age and recognition of private worth, or public service, or family
consideration.' — Three Episodes in Massachusetts History, by Charles Francis
Adams, page 38.

102 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

society, he assists congregations of all sects in the building or
churches. Knowing the value of superior instruction, he founds
technical schools, great libraries and universities, all of which
come within the scope of common sympathies without regard to
culture. When culture is requisite, as in the case of art, the
munificence of the commercial man is less significant ; personal
in his aims, his expenditure is lavish for the decoration of his
dwelling, but for the benefit of the public in art his largess is
more limited than that bestowed in other directions. The
Corcoran Gallery in Washington, with its ample revenue
exclusively devoted to the formation of a free public gallery,
is thus far the sole institution organized by a private individual
for purposes growing out of wide culture in art.

With the foregoing for a preface, we now turn to Luman
Reed, whose name is placed at the head of this chapter, a man
scarcely known beyond his generation, and who, a superior type
of amateur, may be said to have prepared the way for this
order of progress. After acquiring a fortune by untiring
energy, he affords a remarkable example of intelligence and
generosity in the use of it. Before setting forth the character
and influence of Mr. Reed, it is necessary to revert briefly to
the state of art in the country before he came upon the stage.

American art in the eighteenth century and first years of the
nineteenth, as far as it can be shown by works produced on our
soil, begins with Smybert, a Scotch painter born in Edinburgh in
1684, and induced to come to this country by Dean Berkeley in
1728. Smybert settled and married in Boston, where he painted
portraits. His principal work, a picture of the family of Dean
Berkeley, is now in New Haven. The talent of Smybert was
not of the first class. In any event, it was sufficiently great to

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EARLY AMERICAN ART. 103

attract young students of art, and serve them as a sort of
educator. Among those who profited by a study of his work
were Copley, Trumbull, and Allston. John Singleton Copley,
born in Boston, 1738, began to paint spontaneously at a very
early age. ' Pieces executed by him in Boston, before (to use
his own words) he had seen any tolerable picture, and certainly
before he could have received any instruction from the lips of a
master, show his natural talent.'* His principal works, painted
in America before 1776, when he went to England and finished
his career, consist of portraits. In this branch of art he produced
some not afterwards excelled by him, of which two now in the
possession of Mr. Martin Brimmer, of Boston, attest the im-
portance. He acknowledges his indebtedness to the works of
Smybert. Charles Wilson Peale, born in Maryland, 1741, comes
next in order. He visited Copley in Boston, in 1768, who
' afforded him great enjoyment and instruction.' In 1770 he
went to London and became a pupil of West's. On returning
home, in 1774, he practised portrait-painting during revolu-
tionary times as well as in after years. Then comes Gilbert
Stuart, the most remarkable of all, and, as a portrait-painter, still
without a rival. Malbone, born in 1794, whose miniatures
equal those of any painter, was an American. Wertmuller, a
Swede who came to this country in 1794, and died here in 1872,
an artist of great ability, and Robert Edge Pine, born in
England, complete the list of artists of superior merit whose
works are conspicuous in the early stages of the American school.
Of Trumbull we have already spoken.

Portraiture, accordingly, was the only branch of art that
met with any spontaneous encouragement, and that enabled

* Dunlap, History of the Arts of Design in the United States.

io 4 LIFE OF A. B. DURJND.

a local artist with a family to support himself. The absorbing
cares of life at this purely practical stage of the nation's
growth prevented the indulgence of ideal aspirations ; nobody,
consequently, desired to possess a work by a home artist other
than a portrait of a relation, or of some real or fancied great
man of the day. Certain artists, like Peale and Trumbull,
painted pictures to please themselves, but at their own risk
and always without adequate compensation. Dunlap, in his
History of the Arts of Design in the United States, in which
he narrates the lives and fortunes of American artists down to
1833, records only a few exceptions to this rule. These facts
prove not the lack of talent, but a state of public culture that
afforded no encouragement for art beyond that of depicting
the features of a man or a woman. All native-born artists
capable of doing better work, and free of, or indifferent to,
money restrictions, emigrated to Europe — West, Copley, Stuart
(more of an adventurer than the rest), Newton, Leslie, Allston,
and Vanderlyn— where they studied, and obtained recognition
and honour. West became President of the Royal Academy,
Leslie the recipient of royal favour, Allston a celebrity of the
day as painter and poet, and Vanderlyn a competitor of French
artists, and awarded a medal. Stuart, Allston, and Vanderlyn,
it is true, returned home. Allston brought with him a repu-
tation acquired abroad that reflected honour on his country, but
he lived and died in Boston in comparative poverty. Vanderlyn
on his return went back to his native village, Kingston, on the
Hudson River, and lived there almost unknown ; in any event,
he wore out a vexed and broken spirit in the vain effort to
secure a foothold in an unsympathetic community, obtaining
recognition only when his powers had failed. Both were artists

LUMAN REED. 105

of capacity, but their art was grafted on the grand old stock
of European thought and feeling. Stuart, devoted wholly to
portraiture, found appreciation in both countries, and was suc-
cessful. We now turn to Luman Reed, the first wealthy and
intelligent connoisseur who detected and encouraged native
ability in other directions than in portraiture.

Luman Reed was born in 1785, in a village called Green
River, Columbia County, State of New York. In his boyhood
he removed to Coxsackie, a small town on the Hudson River
about twenty-five miles below Albany, where he was educated
at the expense of an uncle in an ordinary school. When old
enough he entered a country store at Coxsackie, and subse-
quently became the partner and brother-in-law of his employer.
During this period of his life he acted as a sort of super-
cargo on a sloop called the Shakespeare, belonging to the firm,
and plying between Coxsackie and New York, the voyage
commonly lasting ten days. His functions consisted in selling
the produce of the farms around Coxsackie, and in purchasing
goods in New York for his country store. Finding by expe-
rience of this kind that New York offered a larger field for
the exercise of his abilities, he at length left the country, and,
carrying with him the little capital he had accumulated,
became a merchant on a larger scale in that city. This ' start
in life,' it may be added, is that of thousands of young
Americans of similar energy and foresight.

The details of Mr. Reed's business career need not be
dwelt on ; it is necessary only to note the qualities which
ensured his success — sagacity, promptness, self-reliance, remark-
able organizing power, and strict discipline in relation to his
subordinates, accompanied with great solicitude for their

106 LIFE OF A. B. DURJND.

interests and welfare. Two or three trifling occurrences illus-
trate these characteristics. On one occasion he had purchased
forty hogsheads of sugar, and told his carman that he was to
bring them to the store in the afternoon. Meanwhile he had
resold them. On returning to his place of business he tells
the carman : ' I sold that sugar and made one hundred and
fifty dollars by it, but I saved you the cartage.' At another
time he bought a lot of wine and sent the carman for it.
The seller, having had no time, probably, to ascertain his
credit, refused to deliver it, and sent back a -note to that
effect. ' Where is the wine ? ' demanded Mr. Reed. ' I got
only this note,' replied the carman. Mr. Reed opened the
note and read it. ' Tell him,' he exclaimed, ' my endorser is
in my pocket. If he has any of my notes, send them here
and I'll cash them. Stop ! I'll go with you ! ' He jumped
on the cart, and ' I tell you,' said the carman, ' I had to
hurry.' In ten minutes his credit was established and the
wine delivered. One morning the clerk whose duty it was to
open the store very early in the morning overslept the cus-
tomary hour ; on reaching the store he found ' L. Reed,
5 o'clock,' in chalk on the door. The sentinel was not at
his post on the rounds of the general, and this was the mode
of punishment. His was the discipline of soldiers who feel
that the general is ever present, but at the same time who
know that he is always considerate. Everybody under him,
up to the day of his death, almost worshipped him. It only
remains to say that, in the commercial world, which is a great
battle-field, Mr. Reed was an accomplished strategist, and made
good use of victory.

Between 1815 and 1832, a period of seventeen years, a

MICHAEL PAFF. 107

fortune rewarded Mr. Reed for his toil. He now began to
gratify other instincts, not rooted in gain. Art seems to have
attracted his attention spontaneously. As usual with com-
mercial men whose natural tastes are kept in abeyance by the
exigencies of business, his first impulse was to possess the best
works of art that could possibly be had, which in those days
consisted of ' Old Masters,' the aesthetic standards of the time.
He accordingly resorted to ' Michael Paff, Esq.,' the only
accredited authority and dealer in pictures in New York, who
supplied him, in commercial phraseology, with ' the best the
market could afford.' How many Mr. Reed bought is not
known. Very soon, however, he discovered he was purchasing
counterfeit ' goods,' and he got rid of his acquisitions in much
less time than it took to buy them. Abandoning ' Michael
Paff, Esq.,' he trusted to his own tastes and sympathies. At
this time the exhibitions of the National Academy of Design,
held in Clinton Hall, Nassau Street, and then becoming attrac-
tive, presented an art which he could comprehend, consisting
of subjects derived from local life, history, and scenery. He
sought the acquaintance of the artists who furnished them, and
at once interested himself in their labours. Finding them
co-workers like himself on an entirely new field, it is probable
that his sympathy for their efforts was quickened by this fact.
However this may be, he availed himself of the opportunity
to procure original productions. His first commission, in 1834,
was given to my father. The following documents narrate
their subsequent intercourse and the beginning of an encourage-
ment of native art that led to most important results.

In 1835 Mr. Charles Augustus Davis, author of the famous
political letters by ' Major Jack Downing,' commissioned my

io8 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

father to visit Washington and paint a portrait of Henry-
Clay, then Senator from Kentucky and the great opponent of
the policy of General Jackson, who occupied the presidential
chair. Mr. Reed at the same time commissioned him to paint
the portrait of General Jackson. In fulfilment of these com-
missions the artist writes from Washington, February 28th,
1835: 'I obtained an introduction to Mr. Clay, made known
my business, and was assured by him that he could not sit for
his portrait, .... his time being entirely taken up by the
pressure of business at the close of Congress. ... I have
learned nothing relating to the portrait of the President, having
to dance attendance on " great men " two or three days before
one can get an answer to a simple question. ... If I cannot
begin this week I shall give up the business, and, like Jack
Downing, "turn my back on the White House until I'm sent
for." '

On the 1 2th of March he reports : ' For a whole fort-
night I have been able to obtain only two sittings of the
President. . . . Since writing the above I have had another
half-sitting, but under such unfavourable circumstances that I
fear I shall not be able to satisfy myself : he smokes, reads,
and writes, and attends to other business while I am painting,
and the whole time of a sitting is short of one hour ; but all
say that I have an excellent likeness ; . . . . however, it is
not good enough to satisfy me. The General has been part
of the time in a pretty good humour, but sometimes he gets his
" dander up " and smokes his pipe prodigiously.'

And not only that, but, as my father related on returning
home, he could overhear the President, at the meetings of his
Cabinet in the adjoining room, warmly disputing with the

GENERAL JACKSON. 109

members of it and vociferating ' by the Eternal ! ' together with
less temperate expletives, in the most energetic manner ; on
entering to give a sitting, and obliged to sign papers on his
knee as these were constantly brought in, he would denounce
Henry Clay in unmeasured terms.

Meanwhile Mr. Reed extended his commission so as to
include portraits of all the Presidents of the United States up
to that day. He writes : —

' I intend to make presents of them to one of our public institutions
of Science and Natural History. ... It is not proper for me to mention
the name of the institution until the presentation is made. . . . If possible,
get that of the Hon. John Quincy Adams [then in Washington], also
Jefferson, from an original by Stuart, and likewise Monroe. ... I forgot
the portrait of the genuine patriot, John Adams, which I hope you will
consent to copy for me, be it where it may. . . . Washington and
Madison you already have.'

In 1832 my father had painted a portrait of the venerable
ex-President Madison, at his residence in Virginia, for George P.
Morris, editor of the New York Mirror. The execution of
Mr. Reed's commission at this time involved an excursion to
Boston, soon after the return of the artist to New York. The
following extracts from his letters narrate his occupation and
experiences there. Mr. Reed accompanied him. He writes,
June 10th, 1835 : —

' I have been at work to some account since I wrote last, but,
gadding about and looking at everything in and out of Boston
most of the time, I have of course not made much progress,
although I have four pictures begun ; one of a beautiful little
girl, the grand-daughter of Mr. Adams, which I paint at the
request of Mr. Reed, to be presented to Mr. Adams ; another,

no LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

a portrait of the Hon. Edward Everett for Mr. Davis (Major
Jack Downing), who gave me the order soon after my arrival
here ; and a third, the head of President John Adams (after
Stuart), which is almost done, as well as that of John Quincy
Adams, an entirely new portrait from life, and much better than
the one I did in Washington. I shall begin copies of Washington
and his wife immediately. After Mr. Reed leaves me I shall
have nothing to do but work and make the most of my time. I
have dined once with Mr. Adams, and have promised to do so
again to-morrow. His residence is eight miles from Boston,
which renders it not so convenient as I could wish for sittings in
taking his and his grand-daughter's portraits. But as I have
already said, no inconvenience shall interfere in my carrying out
the wishes of Mr. Reed, who seems to think of nothing else
while here but to promote my best interests. You will smile to
know that he assures me I shall yet ride in my own carriage. If
I am ever able only to paint as well as he hopes and flatters
himself that I will, I shall care but little for a carriage provided I
continue able to walk and to work.'

On returning to New York, Mr. Reed writes the following
letter, showing in what way he facilitated the painter in accom-
plishing his work : —

'New York, June 15, 1835.

c You will no doubt be a little surprised to see Mr. Allen [his
son-in-law] back in Boston again so soon. He is going to finish up
what he left undone ; he will tell you what he is after. I have this
morning seen Mr. Gouverneur, son-in-law of Mr. Monroe, and he
informs me that Stuart's original of Mr. Monroe is at Baltimore, in the
hands of Mr. Rogers, and that the portrait at Oak Hill is by Sully. I
have seen the one in his mother's possession by Vanderlyn, which is
very well painted. Mr. Gouverneur says that it is the best likeness,

WASHINGTON ALLSTON. in

except that in the possession of S. E. Burrows, by Paradise, which you
are familiar with. ... I am told by Mr. Gouverneur that the original of
Madison by Stuart is at Oak Hill. It seems to be a difficult thing to find
out where the originals of Madison and Monroe really are. You could
tell them if you could set eyes on them. 5

Knowing my father's interest in the National Academy, he
adds : —

'The exhibition at the Academy comes on very well. Over $1900
has been taken in, and the receipts will be at least $2000 by the close. I
hope to hear that you are getting on to your mind, of which I have
no doubt. Mr. Sturges is anxious for your return. I think he wants
you to paint both of his children. Wishing you health, happiness, and
fame, 'I am, yours sincerely,

c Luman Reed.'

Writing a few days later to his friend and pupil, Mr. Casilear,
my father narrates his visit to Washington Allston : —

' I have seen everything in art and nature that the place
affords, and there is much worth seeing. The most interesting
object to me is our country's greatest painter. We have paid
him two visits. He is indeed an interesting personage. I
cannot but regret that he declines Mr. Reed's request to paint
a picture for him on account of the necessary time ; he has
promised, however, to do so as soon as his present engage-
ments are fulfilled, among which is the finishing of " Belshazzar's
Feast," which he intends soon to unroll. He expressed a great
desire to see my print of " Ariadne." Having brought an im-
pression to Boston with me, I was able to gratify him, and if
I had not become in some measure insensible to the tickling of
praise on that point, I should be fully satisfied with the high
compliments he paid me. He wishes some conversation with
me before I leave on engraving his picture of the " Bloody

ii2 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

Hand." At an earlier period of my life this would have given
me the highest satisfaction ; now it comes with less relish.
Still, could I obtain assistance on the subordinate parts, I should
be willing to undertake it for the sake of doing some work by
so distinguished an artist. I expect a visit from him soon,
when I shall be obliged to undergo the ordeal of submitting
my painting to his eye, for the result of which I am a little
more anxious.'

What this opinion was does not appear — it is doubtful if
it was flattering, considering the aim, attainments, and technical
proficiency of the two artists. The admiration of the younger
artist for the genius of his superior was nevertheless then great,
and remained undiminished after years of experience and an
opportunity to compare his works with those of the great
European masters. The following passage in the same letter
is given as a passing comment. Speaking of an exhibition in
Boston, my father says : —

' There are three works by Allston in it, two portraits and
the other a single figure of a " Troubadour," which I think
you would pass by without notice. I have seen others in this
city by him which I cannot appreciate ; but there are some
which cannot be misunderstood — one, a landscape, I think equal
in colour, light and shade, to anything I ever saw.'

On the 2nd of June he writes : —

' I am getting homesick. But the remedy will be at hand
in one week more, for I begin to see through my labours. If
nothing interferes I shall close, or very nearly so, this week.
My work has been nearly double what I expected. Since I
wrote last I have begun another portrait from life, the father-
in-law of Mr. Everett and of Mr. C. F. Adams (son of John

BOSTON LETTERS. 113

Quincy Adams), for whom I am painting it. All pronounce
my likenesses " first-rate." But, however, flattering their good
opinions and the commissions given me may be, I still hope
that I may not be induced to undertake others, for I wish to
be at home, and to that end every hour of the day is devoted
to the completion of what I have in hand. I have finished six
heads and have three more far advanced — in all, nine portraits,
five of which are originals and the others copies for Mr. Reed.
This is the amount of my labour, and if I finish this week, I
shall have done the whole in three weeks — which is not slow.'

Some might think too fast — that the quality of the work
was endangered by speed. But, considering that the painter
was plying his brush every hour of daylight, the rate of speed
may be accepted. Evidence of how he employed himself, as
well as a glimpse of his abstemious and other habits, may be
gathered from the following passage at the end of the above
letter : —

' Since Mr. Reed left I have lived in complete solitude,
working all day in my painting-room and passing the evening
in my bedroom. At table we have three or four ladies, as
many gentlemen, and sundry children, yet they are about as
silent as ours at home. As for myself, I say little — drink coffee
and green tea regularly because there is none other. I eat
dyspepsia bread, which is not " Graham " bread in Boston,
together with whatever else comes before me, being noways
particular — so you may conclude that I am not sick, otherwise
than homesick. I have had a good many of what are called
luxuries since I have been in Boston, and have drunk more
champagne and other wines than for a year past in New York ;
yet I would by far prefer a crust of Graham bread and black

ii 4 LIFE OF A. B. DURJND.

tea at home to them all. Yet I foresee that this excursion
will amply compensate me for all the inconvenience which it
occasions.'

The series of portraits of the Presidents, ordered by Mr.
Reed, was presented by him to the Museum and Library in
the Navy Yard, Brooklyn. Another series, duplicates, were
kept by him for his own gallery, of which more will be said
further on. 1 note here a passage in one of Mr. Reed's letters
addressed to my father in Washington : —

' The all-absorbing subject of my letters of yesterday and the day
before occupied my mind so much that I did not even mention my
portrait that you painted for Mr. Sturges. He has got it home and it
is hung up ; it stands the test of the critics ; even PafF says that it is
first-rate, and he, you know, spares nobody but the old masters.'

Early in the previous year, 1834, Mr. George W. Flagg,
a young man who had just made his debut in the art world,
had produced several remarkable works which attracted Mr.
Reed's attention. Recognising his talent and wishing to afford
a young beginner every educational facility, he at once adopted
him, as it were, and sent him to Europe, defraying all his
expenses. The spirit which animated Mr. Reed — his solicitude,
moral and material, for those he helped, his views of art and
comments on it, which, if not always learned, are at least
original and to the point — is apparent in the following letter
to Mr. Flagg, dated March 9th, 1835: —

4 My Dear Mr. Flagg,

4 1 was quite delighted on receiving your letter, as it was the
first intimation of your arrival in Paris. You say you like Paris better
than London. I am much pleased to hear you denounce* the French

* In the sense of criticise.

G. W. FLAGG. 115

school of painting ; pure, simple nature is the school, after all. You left
here with a good idea of the general tone of colour, and I hope it may
never be corrupted. You say you have become a great admirer of Paulo
Veronese as well as Titian. I hope to see your execution as good as
theirs some day. You have more to do than you are now aware of to
satisfy your admirers in this country ; your fame stands higher here than
any young artist's ever did at your age, and to keep pace with expectation
will require all the efforts you can muster. I hope you will not turn off a
picture until the work is masterly executed ; one picture finished in that
way will be of more service to you than fifty that lack detail. You know
my motto, " With application comes everything/' I really look to you
to give a spur to art in this country — not by startling objects, gorgeous
colouring, and a thousand incongruities to catch the eye of the vulgar, but
by boldness of design, truth in expression, and simple arrangement of
figures and colouring that shall bring out nature itself to view. Execution
is an important point ; a cat well painted is better than a Venus badly
done. My pride is at stake in your success, and you must not disappoint
me. ... It is important to learn to judge correctly of your own works ;
the opinions of most people will only be to flatter you, so little does
the world care about real friendship ! Compare your works with
Titian's, as if both were his, and then judge which is best. I bought
a picture a few days ago by one of the old masters, Fyt, the subject
" Dogs and Game," the size of life, a first-rate specimen of the art*
and I must say that I never knew what could be done in painting before.
The subject I do not admire, but as a work of art it is first-rate. I
am now a believer in the old masters. You say that you should like
to have me slip over to Paris and go with you to Florence. I should
like it much, and some day or other I intend to travel over the ground
and shall want you to go with me. Would you not derive more
advantage by constant practice in Paris during your present stay in
Europe, and then visit Italy after you have become more perfect in the
art ? I expect you to come back much improved, because I think you
have a mind for it. But I am sorry to say that improvement has not

* This work, probably genuine, is now in the collection of Mr. Reed's
pictures, preserved in the New York Historical Society building.

ii 6 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

been the result with most of the artists that have gone to the continent for
that purpose ; they have come back with the exalted notion of having
seen great works ; have looked, talked, and travelled away their time, and
come back more ignorant than when they went away. These instances
are familiar to you. They did not stick down in a place and apply them-
selves. The art is not lost, talent is not deficient, nor is encouragement
of merit wanting. I have set my heart on your success. I have boasted
of your talent and of your great moral worth, and everybody that knows
you looks forward to great things. I fear not the allurements of Paris.
I know that your mind is above them. Fame is before you, but be
careful that you do not overrate yourself; self-sufficiency is certain ruin.
.... I want you to copy the likeness of Claude in the Louvre ; I want
the portrait to hang up. I also want you to make for me drawings in
crayon of three of the best antique statues in the Louvre. Wishing you
health and happiness, I am your most

'. Devoted friend,

' Luman Reed.'

Two months later Mr. Reed writes to my father in
Boston : —

' I am quite happy in being identified with you in your visit to Boston,
and I hope we may often be identified together, if my being so will
promote your interest and success in this naughty world. My young
friend Flagg has returned from Europe brimful of enthusiasm ; he says that
America is the place for him and he wants no better nature than we have
to study from. Now I like this. Let us make something of ourselves
out of our own materials and we shall be independent of others. It is all
nonsense to say that we have not got the material. ... I hope your
admirers in Boston will not draw off" your attachment from New York, as
we cannot think of giving you up. ... I shall be glad to see you back.
.... You are now, in my opinion, fairly under way in your new
profession, and I believe your success is certain.'

Mr. Reed's benefactions were not confined to painters.
Long before the period in which the foregoing letters were
written he had for a business neighbour a man who, through

JAMES H. HJCKETr. 117

his aid, became a distinguished American artist in another
branch of art, Mr. James H. Hackett, the well-known actor,
living at a time when histrionic genius was more abundant and
better understood than at the present day. Mr. Hackett, then
a merchant occupying a warehouse alongside of Mr. Reed's,
was remarkable for his comic stories ; in the dull hours of the
business season he often dropped in on his neighbours and
entertained them with his humour. Unsuccessful in business,
he went on the stage at Mr. Reed's suggestion.

' I found,' says Mr. Hackett, ' upon the occasion of my debut at the
Park Theatre, over four hundred of the first merchants of New York,
gathered and induced thither by my business neighbour, Mr. Reed, to
afford me their countenance. He sought an interview repeatedly by calls
at my home and importuned me to acquaint him with my condition, and
to permit him to use his influence with my few creditors, each a personal
friend of his, to effect a compromise.'

Continuing the story in another letter Mr. Hackett adds,
writing to his friend Mr. Charles M. Leupp : —

1 My intimacy with that honest, industrious, single-hearted, simple-
mannered, liberal-handed, and generous-minded philanthropist — one of the
most modest, energetic, cordial, sincere, disinterested, and unostentatious
of Nature's nobility — originated, as you have heard me describe, in
1825-6, soon after my mercantile bankruptcy, when he unexpectedly
and spontaneously, by his counsel and influence, and the temporary loan of
a thousand dollars (to add to some three thousand I had made within
a few weeks by adopting the stage in my despondency), relieved me from
my liabilities to my creditors, and enabled me to extend the sphere of my
new professional pursuits to other cities and countries without fear of
molestation. "I thought, Hackett," said he, "if you were convinced by
the personal countenance of some of the oldest merchants of New York,
and which I could influence in your favour, that, though you had
unfortunately lost your credit as a merchant, you still had, as a man,

n8 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

the respect of the community, you would be less endangered by your new
associations of losing your own." As long as he lived he gave me his
friendship, confidence, and social countenance in this community, each
timely and of incalculable advantage. God knows how warmly I
appreciated not only his persevering benefactions, but the pure, Christian-
like motives which originally inspired his interference. My spirit seemed
to him broken by my fortunes in trade, and which, neglected then, he
feared might lead to loss of self-respect, carelessness of the opinion of the
world, and consequent inability as well as unfitness to educate and furnish
my three sons (three, five, and six years old), with a fair start on
approaching manhood. When Mr. Reed, surprising me by his offer to
try and succour my distress, mentioned that money would be necessary to
add to what I had just earned in order to free me from my debts, some
of them being in suit, and specified one thousand dollars, I inquired,
" But how and when am I to obtain such an additional sum sooner than a
few months hence, and from my new profession in which I am hardly
embarked, whereas it must be had next week ? " Mr. Reed instantly
replied, " I will lend it to you. And that you may still feel yourself free
I will not take a scrap of paper in acknowledgment of the loan, nor
mention it to my partner, my family, nor to any one. Call any day
you please and I will hand you a bank-note." '

The loan was made and the money refunded in a couple
of months. Mr. Hackett adds : —

4 From the many acts of a similar nature which were done in secret by
him, but detected after his too-early death, he must absolutely have gone
about seeking opportunities for his benefaction, and earned many earthly
blessings from the recipients of his bounty. But, if it should be asked,
" What has such an incident to do with Fine Arts ? " Answer, " Much —
the Pen aiding the Pencil to delineate the mental with the facial features,
and thus illustrate Humanity." '

The foregoing documents suffice to give the reader a good
idea of Mr. Reed's relations with artists in gratifying his
noblest instincts, as well as of his influence in fostering their

THOMAS COLE. 119

interests with the public. Further evidence of all this is found
in his encouragement of other contemporary artists whose works
he appreciated, and whose careers interested him to the same
extent. His relations with Thomas Cole, the most prominent
landscapist of his day, were equally intimate and fruitful. Mr.
Cole, of English birth, came to the United States at a very
early age, but afterwards returned to Europe, where his mind,
impressed by the phenomena of old-world development in con-
trast with that of the new world just starting in civilisation,
conceived the idea of pictorially describing the ' Course of
Empire,' as visible in the five stages of its secular growth —
birth, progress, grandeur, decline, and end in ruin. The series
of pictures painted by him begins with a landscape view, pre-
served throughout the series, in which we observe successively
primitive life in the dawn of day ; social progress in the morning
hours ; architectural splendour, and the processional pageantry of
imperial dominion in the full glare of noonday; war, conquest,
and destruction in the decline of day ; and, finally, utter ruin
at evening in the pale light of a rising moon, where naught
that indicates empire remains on the landscape but a solitary
column and the ineffaceable landmarks of nature. On Mr.
Cole mentioning to Mr. Reed that he would like to paint
such a subject, Mr. Reed told him to fix his price and go on
with it. Mr. Cole named two thousand five hundred dollars,
which sum Mr. Reed afterwards, on seeing the labour involved,
voluntarily increased to four thousand five hundred dollars,
besides giving the artist all the advantages of the exhibition of
his work. Its effect on the public was very great, and notably
in increasing the number of appreciators of native art. Among
them may be mentioned Mr. Samuel Ward, who, later on,

120 LIFE OF A. B. DURJND.

commissioned Mr. Cole to paint ' The Voyage of Life,' a
similar series, and subsequently engraved by Mr. James Smillie.

Next comes W. S. Mount. This young artist began his
career in 1828, with, as usual, a Scripture subject, the 'Raising
of the daughter of Jairus.' Again, as usual, nobody took a
fancy to this picture and bought it. The following year he
tempted the public with still another subject of the same class,
' Saul and the Witch of Endor,' and, at the same time,
descending the imaginative scale of ideas, ' Crazy Kate ' and
' Celadon and Amelia,' both pictures meeting with the same
fate. Finally, in 1830, after falling back on portraiture, in
which he was more successful, Mount produced ' The Rustic
Dance after a Sleigh-ride,' showing his powers on the humorous
side of American rural life and the admiration of which by the
public established his artistic position. In 1834 Mr. Reed and
Mount became acquainted, and in 1835 we find him the owner
of Mount's two masterpieces, ' Bargaining for a Horse ' and
'Unruly Boys,' exhibited in 1836. After this Mount was
never without a commission.

Mr. Reed's encouragement of the artist's efforts at por-
traiture, which led him to abandon engraving entirely, have
been set forth. Meanwhile, having already painted one historical
subject as early as 1833, which was exhibited in 1835 anc ^ soon
disposed of (' The Capture of Major Andre '), my father,
ambitious of pursuing art in that direction, painted for Mr.
Reed ' The Wrath of Peter Stuyvesant ' and ' The Pedler,
the latter a picture of local life suggested by Wilkie's treatment
of similar subjects. In painting ' The Capture of Major Andre '
he conferred with Mr. J. K. Paulding, a descendant of one of
the captors, in relation to costume and historical points, visited

THE WRATH OF PETER STUYVESANT.

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FIGURE SUBJECTS. 121

the spot near Tarrytown where Andre was arrested, and, in
the figures, had the advantage of depicting personages whose
cast of feature and character were familiar to him. The picture
is accordingly a complete expression of his powers in this line
of art. Subsequently engraved, the figures by Alfred Jones
and the landscape by James Smillie, distributed over the country
by the American Art Union, often copied on signs and in other
rude ways, it seems to have become the standard representation
of the subject. In the ' Wrath of Peter Stuyvesant,' imaginary
in all respects, he invents characters and accessories. The
humour of the scene, which is of most consequence artistically,
cannot be mistaken. The ire and energy of the old Dutch
governor, in contrast with the patient attention of the dumpy
and rubicund trumpeter, Anthony van Corlaer, and the fright
of the tall half-breed ' Indian, leave little to be desired. As
early attempts in an historical line, these works cannot be over-
looked in the history and development of national art. Other
works of the same order will be noted farther on. All that
now remains in completing this chapter is to narrate the closing
circumstances of Mr. Reed's career.

As usual with the typical commercial man, Mr. Reed, on
becoming wealthy, built a fine house in the lower part of the
city. But it was not a palace. On the contrary, his residence,
in style of architecture and the arrangement of the interior,
conformed to the habits and mode of life of his contemporaries,
and differed from other dwellings only in being more com-
modious and better constructed, the materials being of the
very best quality and the mechanics employed ' the best that
money could procure.' One feature of it that made it unique
was an upper story devoted to a collection of paintings pro-

122 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

cured, in the main, during the erection of the house, and for
which Mr. Reed had made no provision on laying its founda-
tions. In any event, the third story, before the house was
finished, was adapted to the purposes of a picture-gallery, as
well as this could be done without a skylight in the roof.
When the building was completed the pictures were duly hung.
During this operation it occurred to Mr. Reed that the effect
of the gallery would be improved by painting the doors, all of
them blank spaces among the pictures, in harmony with the
general tone of colour which prevailed on the walls. Accord-
ingly he commissioned Cole, Mount, Flagg, and my father,
whose works were suspended there, to execute designs in this
sense. In this connexion, as well as giving one of Mr. Reed's
judicious observations on the art which he called into being,
the following letter to Mr. Flagg, dated December 30th, 1835,
may be cited : —

' I look for you about the first of the month, and shall expect you
to stay with me some time and paint in the gallery. The life-school
is open at the Academy, and you can avail yourself of that if you wish.
Mount has painted another picture for me, which, in some parts, shows a
perfection in the art which I did not expect to see so soon from any one.
I do not believe that Ostade or Teniers ever did anything better than
some parts of the picture.'

Another detail of this gallery must be recorded — it was
open one day in the week to visitors. This circumstance, the
first of its kind, and that of the decoration of the gallery,
simple facts in themselves, indicate both the unconventional
way in which Mr. Reed carried out his plans, as well as his
ability and disposition to foster the growing interest of the
public in art.

ILLNESS OF MR. REED. 123

The foregoing narration, it is hoped, gives a clear idea of
the character of this eminent commercial man and patron of
American art. The following account of the illness which
terminated his career in the prime of life shows the appre-
ciation of him by the artists whom he had so sympathetically
and nobly befriended. Mr. Reed and my father in the spring
of 1836 were to have visited Mr. Cole, who lived at Catskill.
Instead of going, however, my father thus writes to Mr. Cole
under date of May 12th, 1836 : —

' I am sorry to say that we are prevented from paying you
the promised visit by the sickness of Mr. Reed. He was taken
very violently the morning you left, and the first favourable
appearances are to-day. . . . His disease is said to be remit-
tent fever with inflammation of the liver. I have not seen him
since he was taken down, and although it is not yet three
days it has seemed to me like weeks, so heavily and painfully
has the time passed. I doubt not that you will look with
the same anxiety as myself to the happy moment of his recovery.
God grant that it may not be long. I will not trouble you
with the many melancholy reflections that have come over me
during the short interval since parting from you, and only say
that I will write again in a few days if Mr. Reed is not able
to write you himself.'

Three days later, adding a postscript, he says : ' By keeping
this letter till this morning I am able to add a bit more of
comfort. I have just been to Mr. Reed's and find him con-
siderably better ; and although I would be cautious in indulging
in joyful feeling, I cannot but feel a little lightened of a
grievous burden, so much so that I could scarcely keep from
singing aloud as I returned up Broadway to add this postscript

i2 4 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

for you. . . . You know, my dear friend, that I alone am
not an interested individual in this matter. I dare not think
on the desolation that his loss would occasion.'

On the 20th of May he reports that the patient is better,
but unable to sit up ' in consequence of the great prostration
of the system by profuse bleeding.' May 25th, he adds, 'I
have at length had the pleasure of seeing our friend for the
first time on Sunday, and again to-day. . . . He desires to be
particularly remembered to you, thinks of you constantly, and
says that it is his greatest satisfaction to know that he has such
good friends. Could I find words to express the interest I feel,
for one, in that friend, I would attempt it, but your own heart
will best conceive it. Suffice it to say that, although taught
by experience to be cautious of enjoyments proceeding from
attachments of the heart, having suffered all the agony of
bereavement, I still find myself so deeply attached to him that
the very thought of his loss fills me with a gloom and sadness
which almost unfits me for the common duties of the day.'

One more letter is dated June 7th, 1836 : —

' The fatal hour has come. Our dear friend is dead. The
funeral will take place on Thursday afternoon. Come and look
for the last time on the man whose equal we never shall see
again. I can say no more.

' Yours in deepest sorrow,

'A. B. DURAND.'

On learning the sad intelligence from my father, Mr. Mount
writes : —

'I have received your letter of the nth inst., informing me of the
death of our best friend, Mr. Luman Reed. The more I think of him,

PRIVATE COLLECTIONS. 125

the more sorrowful I feel that he is taken away from us. How pleasing
he" was in his address ! How well he understood the feelings of the
artists ! He was one we shall always love to remember.'

Mr. George W. Flagg expresses like sentiments, adding, —

' He was indeed a father to me, ever ready to cheer me on ; and
often, by his counsel and affectionate encouragement, has he imparted new
zeal to my waning efforts, and again renewed my fondest hopes of success.
How cheerfully and liberally have I been assisted by his bounty ! I had
hoped, one day, to have shown him that the advantages I derived there-
from are not bestowed in vain. But this hope is now taken from me
without having the satisfaction of seeing him in his last moments, to thank
and ask Heaven's blessing on him. Death has snatched him from us, and
you, with many others, as well as myself, must feel the void that cannot
be filled.'

Many testimonials to Mr. Reed's worth outside the artistic
circle might be given ; but as this is to be shown in another way,
I pass them to dwell for a moment on the effect of Mr. Reed's
example. One instance has already been stated in the case of
the commission given by Mr. Samuel Ward to Mr. Cole for the
' Voyage of Life,' stimulated by the success of the ' Course of
Empire.' More striking evidence of it appears in the following
facts. Two years after Mr. Reed's death, the exhibitions of the
National Academy of Design displayed nearly double the number
of works contributed by nearly twice the number of artists that
are found in those of the two previous years. In ten years,
private collections containing American works alone were rapidly
formed and continued to increase, among which those of Mr.
Jonathan Sturges, Mr. A. M. Cozzens, Mr. C. M. Leupp,
Mr. Thomas H. Faile, Mr. R. M. Oliphant, Mr. Marshall O.
Roberts, and others, members of the Sketch Club, or business
associates of Mr. Reed, are most conspicuous. Lastly, many

126 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

institutions had sprung up in New York, where available capital
for art and a liberal public spirit had immensely increased and
given the city an artistic reputation throughout the country.
Most conspicuous is the ' American Art Union,' founded in
1840, whose subscribers were obtained in all parts of the Union,
and which distributes broadcast among them hundreds of works
by native artists, together with large original engravings illus-
trative of local life and history, and which could not otherwise
have been published. At length, in honour of Mr. Reed, the
' New York Gallery of Fine Arts ' came into being. This
institution, the history of which is briefly narrated below, arose
not only in commemoration of him and his services in the cause
of native art, but was intended to be the nucleus of a free public
museum for the city of New York. Before entering on the
details of its short career, it is sufficient to state, with regard
to Luman Reed and the beneficent effect of his example, that
in his time and generation he made native art the fashion.
Except in the encouragement of local art on a grander scale,
it may be observed that no European potentate, possessing the
will and the power to foster art, surpassed him in spirit or in
act ; the superiority of papal or royal amateurs consisted wholly
in superior resources. In conclusion, I quote an anonymous
appreciation of Mr. Reed, taken from a newspaper the year of
his death : —

' It is well to tell the young artist who has to make his way
in this country that his art once had a generous friend who
sought to advance its interests by considering the feelings and
capacities of its votaries. This was encouragement of the right
stamp. To call Mr. Reed a patron of art in the usual acceptation
of the word is to give a feeble idea of his usefulness and of the

A ClfT GALLERT OF ART. 127

spirit which animated him. He aimed to smooth the path of
art for those who travelled it by letting them pursue it as was
most agreeable to themselves. If he ever sought to point the
way by making suggestions or requesting favours, it was done
with that consideration for the artist's inclinations which made
it gratifying to oblige him. It was not alone this motive,
however, which prompted an acquiescence with his views.
Though not possessing an educated judgment, he had a natural
pictorial perception and good taste which were almost always
in sympathy with the more extended knowledge of his artistic
friends. A gentleman observing his munificence once remarked
to him, " These pictures, Mr. Reed, must have cost considerable
money." " They did," he replied ; " the outlay is my pleasure
— I like it; besides," his eye lighting up as he spoke, "the
artists are my friends, and it is the means of encouragement
and support to better men than myself." '

The testimonial in honour of Luman Reed, intended to show
the estimate of him by his contemporaries — unfortunately not
successful — is the establishment of the New York Gallery of
Fine Arts. Four years after his death, it became necessary to
close his estate and dispose of his art treasures : the idea occurred
to his friends and beneficiaries to secure their purchase by a
subscription among Mr. Reed's business associates who, recog-
nising his superior ability as a merchant, would be glad to honour
his character and career in this way. This idea was matured
and carried out. A subscription was opened, and thirteen
thousand dollars, the amount required for the purpose, was
immediately obtained. Mr. Theodore Allen, son-in-law of
Mr. Reed, in concurrence with others, devised the plan of the
institution ; Mr. Jonathan Sturges, Mr. Reed's partner, was made

128 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

president of it, which function involved the contribution of most
of the preparatory funds necessary for its establishment ; Mr.
Thomas H. Faile, who contributed the rest, was made treasurer.
Fifty trustees, mostly wholesale grocers, along with other pro-
minent merchants, constituted nominally a board of control —
which rarely met — while the fundamental idea for the main-
tenance of the institution, as far as revenue was concerned,
consisted of a membership, obtainable by anybody on the pay-
ment of one dollar for life. It was thought that for such a
trifling sum the people would flock to the exhibition en masse.
Ten thousand certificates of membership were made ready for
' the rush.' The next object was to secure the favourable help
of the press, which was easily accomplished. The claims of the
institution to public support, with a programme of its purpose,
and a list of the fifty trustees attached to it, were presented,
among other editors, to Mr. James Gordon Bennett, of the New
York Herald. Mr. Bennett read it over, and on doing so,
slowly and gruffly remarked, ' Why, these people know more
about pork and molasses than they do about art ! ' ' Yes, that
is true, Mr. Bennett,' was the reply, ' but they give the money.
' Well,' said he, ' I'll notice it,' and he did the following day.
Next came the problem of an exhibition-room. A suitable
building would require a large endowment — which was not to
be thought of. The National Academy of Design, then occupying
the upper stories of the Society Library building on the corner
of Franklin Street and Broadway, loaned its rooms for the first
display of the collection. Finally, it was suggested that it would
be well to apply to the municipal corporation for the ' Rotunda,'
built by Vanderlyn in 1 8 17 at the north-east corner of the park,
on city property, for his exhibition purposes, now unoccupied,

MUNICIPAL AID. 129

and which might be had, probably, free of rent. At that time
Mr. James Harper, lately elected as a reform candidate, was
Mayor, and it was feared that he would oppose the application
on the score of the impropriety of giving public property for
private purposes. His favourable consent, however, was soon
obtained. The next difficulty consisted in getting the Common
Council to pass a Bill sanctioning the grant. Some bribery
was used and a good deal of ' lobbying.' Besides this, speeches
had to be made by the aldermen in favour of it. One of these
was Mr. Abraham Cozzens, of hotel celebrity ; ' posted ' on the
history of art by his son, Mr. A. M. Cozzens, he became so
entangled and confused in his argumentative use of Greek and
Renaissance terms and facts as to endanger the success of the
Bill had this depended on what he said. The Bill passed,
nevertheless, with only one stipulation, that the building should
be vacated, on due notice, whenever wanted. As soon as its
possession was ensured, repairs and improvements were made,
in the shape of a division of the interior into two stories, and
the pictures were hung. To add to the interest of the collection,
presents and loans were obtained from artists and others. ' The
New York Gallery of Fine Arts ' accordingly existed. Here
were quarters which, if tenable for ever, might have sufficed for
the maintenance of the institution. But events did not shape
that way. The expected ' rush ' of the masses did not take
place. One thousand certificates of membership were with
difficulty given away or sold ; but never was enough money
obtained to pay expenses. In answer to an inquiry one day by
one of the trustees, reminded of the existence of the exhibition
only by a chance encounter with an official, ' How does that
thing get along?' he replied, mournfully, 'Not at all.' Neither

130 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

members nor officers (except the two above named) cared enough
about the institution to attend an election of its officers ; on
the last election that took place one vote only was cast. After
an unmolested occupancy of the Rotunda for about two years,
the Common Council ordered its evacuation and it was given
up. During this period Mr. Sturges and Mr. Faile supplied
the deficiencies of income; the former, satisfied that it was useless
to try to maintain an institution of this stamp, then took steps
to close it. Arrangements were made with the New York
Historical Society to accept the collection on condition that the
rights and privileges of members should be guaranteed. Thus
did the New York Gallery of Fine Arts end its days as an
independent institution. The collection of works of art made
by Mr. Reed now reposes in the attic of a building where no
ray of sunlight ever reaches the pictures, and where the few
who visit it know nothing of the origin and purpose of the
collection.

U 1

CHAPTER IX.

A Turning-point in Life — Figure-subjects — ' High Art ' — Ch racter of Exhibi-
tions — The ' Hanging Committee ' Criticised — -Various Features of Art — -
Ithiel Town — An Old Lady — P. T. Barnum — City and Country Life
Compared — The ' Mecca ' of an Artist.

THE above period of four years, in which my father
became a painter, may be called the turning-point of
his life. Before this he had been merely groping his
way. The advent of Mr. Reed enabled him to discard fears
and doubts, for he now felt that he could change his pro-
fession without risk. Disappointment and sorrow, due to the
loss of Mr. Reed, somewhat checked his course, deprived as
he was of encouragement in the line of art he preferred : his
taste tended towards figure-painting through previous practice
in drawing and designing, and this taste Mr. Reed had
fostered. He soon found that there was no one possessing
the same comprehensive, liberal, and generous spirit to take
his place. Our artist, accordingly, had to rely — as before on
engraving — on the natural inspiration of the community and
accommodate himself to its taste. Meanwhile he had gained
some reputation in portraiture, which would ensure him a
livelihood, and likewise as a landscape-painter — a branch of art
that now began to obtain a foothold in the community, as we
see in the success of Cole. He was not discouraged ; on the
contrary, he laid down the graver and took up the brush with
renewed ardour — not that of an inexperienced and reckless

132 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

youth, but of a self-reliant man in the prime of life and
fully aware of the risks he was to encounter.

Sufficient notice has been taken of the figure-subjects
executed by the artist up to this period. Purely tentative
before Mr. Reed came on the stage, those which were painted
for him only can be considered as professional work. The
following subjects, executed afterwards to please himself, com-
plete the list. In 1837 he painted two pictures that have
since been destroyed in accordance with his desire : one a
' Ruth and Naomi,' begun in Florence, and the other ' Healing
the Possessed,' painted after his return from Europe, the latter
an ambitious composition representing Christ casting out devils,
in which the principal figure is the maniac at the feet of the
Saviour. These may be called his last attempts at c high art.'
In 1838 he painted for Mr. Ogden Haggerty 'Rip van
Winkle introduced to the crew of Hendrick Hudson in the
Catskill Mountains ' — a ghostly assembly playing ninepins in
a low, weird, supernatural light, the effect of which, together
with the humour of the scene, were adequately rendered. One
of my father's favourite ideas had been the possibility of
combining figures and landscape together so as to make each
equally interesting, and not, as usual, depicting the latter as a
mere background to the former. One case of this kind has
already been mentioned, the figures, however, being portraits.
Another instance is ' A Dance on the Battery in presence of
Peter Stuyvesant,' painted for Mr. Thomas Hall Faile. In
spite of certain technical defects, the grouping and action of
the youthful dancers, the out-door effect, the gaiety of the
scene, and the benevolent expression of the old governor,
express the spirit of the subject. The last of his perform-

mone
pedler.

INTERVIEW BETWEEN WASHINGTON AND
HARVEY BIRCH.

your Excellency think that I have exposed my life and Masted my.chara.cte>
- y Not a dolIar of y° ur gold will I touch." The -bag tell at the feet of

Tor
the

r, Z^ £m f embei ^ ?° U r/ h }> and Cares - l have told .V° u that the characters of mer who
fidelTt" " '" depem1 ° n y ° Ur S£CreCy; What ^ »» * S ive th ™ of yo,r

« Jl" f h TeH 'W said 4 Birch > fdvancmg and unconsciously resting one foot oh the ba e
tell them that I would not take the gold." '-The Spy, by J. Fenxmok* Cooper.

Reproduced Jrom the Original Picture in the possession of Miss Fanny Gillie
W^ntgtony DC Helifpravkre Dujardin. Printed by C. Wiimdnr

and

accordance wil
I Florence, and the

tited after his return from Europe, the latter
i\/h VmwmwiA « /.Aamim. Mdw^CkHslt'saidbg out devils,
.Hu>na v.r./jif.ii, ; ac at the f eet f the

sssft twf * wu *»«;&.■ hi § h art '

has

ortraits.

:sence of

aile. In

I action of

gaiety of the

id governor,

his perform-

TTPE OF THE ART PATRON. 133

ances in this direction, painted some years afterwards, will be
mentioned later on. His most successful attempt in historical
art was a small picture entitled ' Last Interview between
Harvey Birch and Washington,' exhibited in 1843 an d engraved
for one of the Annuals. This was a picture for which he
was able to secure models ; its success indicates a certain pro-
ficiency and excites regret that he was obliged to abandon
historical art. Bought by the American Art Union, it fell
into the hands of the Hon. George P. Marsh. It is well to
note in this connexion that the literature and art of the new
country went hand in hand.

The dominance of portraiture in the art of the day, and
the reason for it, has already been dwelt on. The lover of a
portrait is the type of the local patron of art. Few picture-
buyers at that time ever got beyond that point. As the
exhibitions of the National Academy of Design annually pre-
sented the artistic harvest of the season, and as the majority
of works exhibited were portraits, this fact denotes the natural
taste of the public. The exhibitions were, of course, extremely
monotonous. The complaint was often heard, ' Why don't
artists paint something else ? ' Nevertheless, portraiture brought
the friends of its subjects to the exhibition, and, consequently,
a crowd which put money into the purse of the National
Academy of Design. Many of these portraits possessed great
merit. Those of ladies by Ingham, remarkable for feminine
refinement, always secured marked attention. The portraits of
Inman, as well as those by Sully, Morse, and Page, met
with the same favour. Development in other branches of art
kept pace, in a measure, with portraiture. Landscapes increased
in number, and occasionally a picture in the exhibition by a

134 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

foreign artist added to the variety of attractive art. In the
way of local landscapes, there were the works of Hoyle,
Doughty, and especially Cole. Add to these the contribu-
tions in figure-subjects of Weir, Chapman, and Mount, with
those of Inman. The school of American art was now fully
established. Soon a new generation of artists sprang up, and
the exhibitions became more complete and popular. No pictures
were refused ; on the contrary, the town was ransacked for
them. Anybody that could daub a canvas with colour and
produce any sort of pictorial effect was deemed an artist,
and his productions were welcome. The Press, it must be
noted, now began to entertain the public with art, not editorially
or by criticism, but in the way of complaints by anonymous
correspondents. In the spring of 1838 our artist, who had
the misfortune to be on the ' Hanging Committee ' of the
Academy, became the subject of newspaper attack, as narrated
in the following letter to Mr. Cole : —

' Since you left here the current of things has not brought
much within my view of an agreeable character that has not
been more than overbalanced by its opposite ; still, I am
plodding on in spite of wind or weather, urged on by the
charmer, Hope, " whatever ills betide." I am the chief scape-
goat of the notorious hanging committee of the Academy, or,
rather, I am believed, myself alone, to be that multitudinous
animal, the Council, with seven heads and ten horns, if one
may judge by an article in the Standard. Our long-cherished
institution has imbibed the disorganizing contagion that has
so long prevailed in the political community ; its hitherto
healthy growth is impeded, I fear, for ever. Every day dis-
closes some additional subject of complaint ; the most un-

NEWSPAPER CRITICS. 135

charitable construction is put on the conduct of the Council,
and, without witness or jury, the soi-disant judges of the day
pronounce awful sentences of condemnation — " Partiality,"
" favouritism," " keeping down young artists," " hoisting up
Academicians ;" " Why are such vile daubs placed on the line
and such artistic productions left to blush unseen in the shade ? "
The secret of all this is the influx of mediocre talent and the
hot-bed fermentation visible among juvenal* artists to ripen
before their time, and by unnatural means generated by the ill-
judged zeal of interested friends or unenlightened admirers.'

But such are the common experiences of people who work
for the public. In the same letter he adds, ' The times are
dull.' No Mr. Reed existed to stimulate him ; nevertheless,
the impulse he gave to art was still operative, and my father
still had sufficient employment. Among the lovers of art of
the day, and a special friend, Mr. Jonathan Sturges, partner
of Mr. Reed and the inheritor of his artistic purposes, was
the most conspicuous. Besides executing portraits and land-
scapes for his collection, my father owed him advantages which
will be stated further on. Another prominent aid was Mr.
Frederick J. Betts, living at Newburgh, where adjoining his
house he had built a gallery for paintings. My father executed
for this gentleman several portraits, a landscape called ' Saturday
Afternoon,' and two others, ' Morning and Evening of Life,' of
larger dimensions than /Usual and exhibited in 1840. Other
works of the same character were painted and disposed of.
' Western Emigrants ' and ' The Rainbow,' purchased by two
amateurs of Cincinnati ; ' The Stranded Ship,' painted for Mr.
James Brown of New York ; a ' Sailing Party/ and others,
* ' Most brisky juvenal.' — Midsummer Night's Dream, Act 3, Sc. 1.

136 LIFE OF A. B. DURJND.

which found sympathetic appreciators. All these works belong
to the ideal class, in which the artist's brush is free. In
addition to these he painted two ' portrait-landscapes,' which
indicate the sort of art patronage that springs out of personal
associations, and which illustrate the kind of public taste a
painter must sometimes gratify. The following extract from a
letter of a certain ' patron ' shows its character : —

1 My brother is determined that you shall paint a picture for him of
this village. The point from which the picture is to be taken is about

one mile west. I have been there to-day with my friend Mrs. ,

and we have settled that the subject is without doubt the finest in
creation, to say nothing of the additional interest of its being our native
place.'

The other ' portrait -landscape ' was commissioned by Mr.
Ithiel Town, an architect and possessor of a library, who
stipulated that my father should accept pay for it in rare old
books The same person likewise ordered a characteristic land-
scape of Cole on the same terms. My father was to paint a
view of ' Athens in Greece,' according to a restoration of the
ancient city as depicted in a well-known engraving, which was
to be pasted on a canvas and serve as the drawing of the
subject. All that he had to do that could be called original
was to add colour and atmospheric effect. It is sufficient to
state that he accomplished the task to the satisfaction of the
party concerned, and that, in the course of time, the painting
fell into the hands of a picture-dealer and was consumed in a
conflagration of his premises.

The following extract, from a letter by Mr. Cole, shows the
character and fate of the commission he was favoured with : —

* Do you know I have received a letter from Mr. Town, telling me

SINGULAR ART PATRONS. 137

that neither he nor his friends like the picture I have painted for him,
desiring [expecting] me to paint another in place of it, composed of rich
and various landscape, history, and architecture of different styles and
ages — these are his own words — ancient or modern Athens. This
letter is interlarded with fulsome panegyrics on my excellence in such
pictures : " My friend Cole is celebrated for painting rich landscapes
and architecture, history, &c, intermixed." You and I painting modern
and ancient Athens with the aid of prints, " full of poetry or reality,
and full of the most intense interest to everybody of literary character
who should behold them" — and full of trumpery if they resembled this
twaddle. For this trashy stuff — after I have painted him a picture as
near as I could accommodate my pictorial ideas to his prosaic volumi-
nousness — a picture of immense labour, at a much lower price than I
have painted pictures of the same amount of labour for several years
past — he expects me again to spend weeks and weeks after the uncertain
shadow of his appreciation ! I will not do it, and I have written to
him to say that I would rather give back his books and consider the
commission as null than [repeat] it on such precarious terms. The
picture was painted for him and is his. . . . On this subject I will
say no more, but beware when you paint for the same patron.'

Another example of this sort of taste is pertinent. One
day a genteel old lady with a bundle of engravings under her
arm called upon my father, and introduced herself by stating
that she wished to engage him to paint a landscape for her.
She had always admired his trees, and wanted a picture com-
posed mainly of these objects. Unrolling her engravings she
pointed to a group in one of them which pleased her very
much, also another group in another engraving which was to
be copied and placed in front of that group. In one corner
of the picture a thicket was to be introduced, from which a
lion was to be seen rushing towards a river with a lamb on
the shore. The sky was not to occupy much space ; the rest
of the canvas should be filled with trees. She had made a

138 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

tracing of a stump which she greatly admired, and this was to
appear somewhere in the foreground. The river was to be
called the Jordan, and John the Baptist with the Saviour were
to be seen standing up to their knees in the water. On my
father remarking that these models, copied indiscriminately from
works by Rubens, Poussin, Claude, and other modern painters,
were not consistent with Oriental history, she replied that ' any
other baptism would do as well.' Finally, on his declining the
commission, she regretted this very much, as she had been
reflecting on the design for two years, and had brought the
material with her to save the artist trouble.

Another would-be patron of art, one of the notabilities
of the time, must not be overlooked. The following letter,
accompanied by a prospectus, of which extracts are given
below,* explains itself: —

c Barnum's American Museum,

'New York, June 21, 1855.
1 A. B. Durand, Esq.

1 Dear Sir, — At the proper time I should like you to paint
one or more of the Premium Portraits for the Gallery of Beauty, and

* ' An eminent publishing house in Paris is engaged in issuing a series of
the most distinguished Female Beauties in the world, which, when completed,
is to include Ten of the most beautiful ladies in the United States and the
Canadas. In order to obtain such specimens of American beauty as will
compare favourably with any that the Old World can produce, as well, also,
as to secure in a permanent form a Gallery of Original Portraits, unequalled in
the world for graceful perfection, and at the same time encourage a more
popular taste for the Fine Arts, stimulate to extra exertion the genius of our
Painters, and laudably gratify the public curiosity, the subscriber will give
over Five Thousand Dollars in Premiums. To accomplish these objects, he
proposes that every person having a fair friend (single or married) whom he
believes competent to compete for the premiums and eclat embraced in this
enterprise, shall forward to him (free of expense) her photograph or daguerreo-

P. r. BARNUM. 139

will thank you to write me immediately, in confidence, naming your
lowest terms.

' As the premiums will necessarily be a source of inordinate expense
to me, I hope you will be as considerate as you can in the price
demanded.

' It is, perhaps, unnecessary for me to mention that the exhibition
of these portraits will afford an excellent opportunity to enhance your
already well-earned popularity, as each portrait will bear the name of its
distinguished artist.

' Truly yours,

' P. T. Barnum.'

One of my father's inferior works, picked up at auction,
chanced to find its way into a private collection, where, in
comparison to other works, it did him great injustice. He
accordingly addressed a note to the owner of it, offering to
substitute a superior picture. The following is the reply : —

' .... As to the picture, I have always thought better of this

type. A sealed envelope must accompany each portrait, enclosing the address
(with or without the real name of the fair original), furnishing the colour of
her eyes, the shade of her complexion, and a small lock of her hair, in order
that the artists may do their celebrity and their subjects justice in executing
the subsequent Gallery of Oil Paintings. Of these envelopes, none except
those accompanying the one hundred likenesses that receive the Premiums will
be opened ; and although no lady's name will be exacted as a right, it is hoped
that those to whom the Premiums may be awarded, will not ultimately object
to allow their real names to be attached to the Oil Portraits, and published in
the French World's Book of Female Beauty, . . . Every visitor, on entering the
gallery devoted to the daguerreotypes, shall receive a slip of paper, upon which
he or she may mark down the particular numbers of the one hundred (or less)
portraits, out of the entire collection, which he or she may conceive best entitled
to premiums. As the visitor passes out, this slip shall be taken and deposited
in a box at the door, under the close supervision of a special receiver. Each
lady who may secure one of the ten highest premiums, will be desired to sit, to
the best artist in the city nearest to her residence, who will paint her portrait,
from life, for the French publication, at the expense of the subscriber.'

i 4 o LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

specimen than I know you have done. Some day, when I meet with
a first-class, A I, super-extra, super-interesting and characteristic Durand,
I will lay my sacrilegious paws upon it; but I am hard to suit, for I
require not only fine artistic qualities, but also interest in the subject ;
then it must suit me ; and then it must work in with my other pictures
and subjects. For these reasons it happens that I generally stumble
accidentally on the pictures I buy, but don't find them when I go to
look for a particular thing. Hoping for success some time, — I remain,
&c.'

Mr. Cole and my father, both labourers in the same pro-
fessional field, and subject to the same trials and social conditions,
the former living in the charming Catskill region, and the latter
in the uncongenial city, corresponded regularly and sometimes
compared notes. The following extracts from two letters afford
a glimpse of their respective moods, and may interest some of
my readers, especially artists. My father writes : —

' I am still willing to confess myself a trespasser on your
ground, though, I trust, not a poacher ; landscape still occupies
my attention. If the public don't wish me to take their heads,
I will, like a free horse, take my own, and " ope the expanding
nostril to the breeze." Now, if there be a man on earth whose
location together with whose locomotive powers I envy, it is
Thomas Cole ! I am free to say that, were I so circumstanced,
and still in possession of my present combustibility of nerve and
certain other impetuosities, the seven-league boots of Jack the
Giant-killer would not even be desirable. This miserable little
pen, enclosing 250,000 human animals or more, should no longer
hold me to swell the number ; the vast range of this beautiful
creation should be my dwelling-place, the only portion of which
I can at present avail myself being the neighbourhood of
Hoboken, which I am permitted to strip of its trees and

CITY AND COUNTRY. t 4 i

meadows two or three times a week, and for which I am
indeed thankful. How do you get on?'
Mr. Cole replies :—

' I am sorry that you are at times so much depressed in spirits.
You must come to live in the country. Nature is a sovereign remedy.
Your expression is the result of debility; you require the pure air of
heaven. You sit (I know you do) in a close, air-tight room, toiling,
stagnating, and breeding dissatisfaction at all you do, when if you had
the untainted breeze to breathe, your body would be invigorated, your
spirits buoyant, and your pictures would even charm yourself. This is
not exaggeration — there is much sober truth in it. You speak of the
want of proper excitement. I am of the opinion that in the city more
excitement is necessary than in the country ; and particularly so to
artists like ourselves. In the city we are surrounded by our fellow-
men and we feel their presence ; we labour for their approbation, and
require that stimulant frequently. But in the country we labour under
more healthy influences. The desire to produce excellence feeds the
flame of our enthusiasm, and I believe the product is worthier than
that which is wrought out to the approbation of the many around us.
In the country we have necessarily to defer the reward of the appro-
bation of our fellows, and have time to examine critically our own
works and form a judgment of our own that cannot be jostled out by
that of every new observer. You will think me sermonising ; but I
merely wish to convince you that, provided you could consistently leave
the city, you would be better in health and spirits, and I am sure if you
would pitch your tent near me, I should also be benefited — so there
you see I come in with a little selfishness at last ! '

Circumstances were not favourable to my father's removal
to the country. On the contrary, a city life, however distasteful
to him, became more imperative than ever on account of his
profession of a portrait-painter, which obliged him to dwell
where his sitters dwelt. For his friend Cole, exclusively a
landscape-painter, the country afforded every advantage. Again,

1 42 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

early in this period — 1834 — my father married his second wife,
Mary Frank, daughter of Jacob Frank, Esq., which rendered a
removal to the country impracticable. Always in quest of
picturesque materia] in summer, and leading a sort of nomadic
life for eight years, often separated from his children, and, again,
the owner of a house, he was only too glad to return to it,
especially as it was now within the city limits. He accordingly
took possession of his old home in 1838, where he was to
remain for thirty-one years. Two years later he added a studio,
and considered himself settled for life.

Europe is the Mecca of an American artist. Every painter
and sculptor longs to make this pilgrimage, and, indeed, finds
it indispensable for the completion of his education. A writer
may develop his mental faculties in libraries containing the
literary masterpieces of the greatest intellects of all nations; he
can here study their methods and style, comprehend their motives
and ideas, and commune with them in their books mind to mind.
The artist to commune with the master-minds of his profession
must see the works actually executed by them, real and not
abstract products of their brain, and learn from them directly ;
not until he stands in front of the paintings on the walls of
the great galleries of Europe and studies the forms and colour
which the artists' own hands have placed on the canvas, does
he find the libraries that furnish professional knowledge and
show him the modes, compass, and depth of artistic thought.
The time had now come for the artist to go abroad. Thanks
to the facilities afforded him by his friend, Mr. Jonathan Sturges,
who relieved him from the financial cares of the journey, he was
able to undertake it, and to this we now turn.

CHAPTER X.

Tour in Europe — Steamer Life — George Combe — ' Old Masters ' in London —
C. R. Leslie — Sir David Wilkie — Appreciation of the English School of
Art — A Masquerade — London and the Country — Switzerland — Italy —
Works executed in Florence — Claude Lorraine — Life in Rome — Voyage
Home — Icebergs — Arrival.

FOUR years had elapsed since, through the advent of
ocean steamers, a voyage to Europe had been rendered
easy, comfortable, and, it may be added, commonplace.
Travellers in foreign lands on returning home were no longer
regarded with awe — now alone accorded to the explorers of the
Dark Continent. People crossed the ' big ferry ' with com-
paratively little risk, were rarely robbed abroad except by hotel-
keepers, kept journals, returned home and resumed their daily
avocations, without becoming, as formerly, when ocean navi-
gation was thought perilous and bandits abounded on the
Continent, either heroes or c lions.' Some crossed for pleasure,
many for business, and few, as nowadays, for instruction alone.
My father belonged to the latter class. Fortunately he kept a
journal in the style of letters, afterwards transcribed in his
correspondence, and as the experiences and observations therein
recorded reveal character, opinions, and sentiments, I quote
freely from it.

In company with his young artist friends, Messrs. Casilear,
Kensett, and Rossiter, he sailed for London in the steamer
British Queen, June i, 1840. The journal begins on board

H4 LIFE OF A. B. DURJND.

the steamer, ' with a degree of composure of mind quite
unexpected after the painful parting from family and friends.'
A rose given him by his youngest daughter is recorded the
next day as ' still fresh and fragrant ; ' the day after, c in full
bloom and as yet unfaded — a good omen that all are well at
home, which may God grant ! ' and finally, the fourth day out,
' having bloomed its little hour, it has scattered its leaves on the
water.' No longer thus reminded of home associations, he now
turns his attention to the world around him, of which he speaks
in this fashion : —

' Really, at a superficial glance, this vessel appears to be little
else than an immense cookshop and slaughter-house afloat ; the

business of eating seems to take precedence of all other

The dinner closes with songs and sentiments in the saloon ; on
deck, the merry contagion spreads and continues through the
afternoon, when the evening closes in with dance and song
among the sailors. All is joy and glee.'

The first Sunday out, a Scotch Presbyterian preaches on the
'disobedience of Jonah.' After the sermon, ' Fell into conver-
sation with a Mr. H of New York, who, besides possessing

consummate knowledge of painters and pictures, gave me to
understand that he was the only man living who comprehended
Shakespeare.'

Mr. George Combe, the eminent phrenologist and author of
The Constitution of Man, is on board. ' Had some conversation
with Mr. Combe on the moral condition of the people of the
United States. He confirmed the decision of Dr. Spurzheim
that we are, in the aggregate, deficient in conscientiousness and
moral culture, and, consequently, in danger of Government
dissolution, unless an amount of intelligence superior to what

PORTRAIT OF A CHILD.

Engraved by H. Manesse from the Original Picture in the possession of
F, F, Durand.

i he
now

e, this 'ears to be little

louse afloat ; the
if all other. . .
.CIJ1HO A ^ftjTiAJiT^oq m the ; on

> »m^ m # %-*m \™^n® *U»«M**a« *u£V>ti the

hor of

STEAMER INCIDENTS. 145

has yet been attained by any other nation shall be diffused
among the people. We possess ample means to effect that
object when rightly directed, although our present condition
exhibits much of discouragement ; he by no means despairs of
our arriving at that result by the gradual extension of an
enlightened system of education, by which means alone per-
manency to our moral or religious institutions can be secured.

' It is said that a man-of-war at sea is a perfect despotism
in miniature ; not so with a steam-packet. On the contrary, it
is rather an example of a perfect democracy — for instance,
immediately in front, flat on the deck, on a small coiled rope,
squatted like a tailor, George Combe, the phrenologist and
philosopher ; near him, without even a coiled rope or seat of
any kind other than the bare deck, two or three fashionable
ladies ; near them, on a wooden bench, sits an Italian bishop
surrounded by several of his confreres, consisting of priests and
laymen, smoking segars (puffing forth a more harmless fire and
smoke than at some other times proceed from the mouths of
that description of personage) ; while all around in almost every
possible position — sitting, standing, reclining, or stretched out
at full length — appear ladies and gentlemen, soldiers and sailors,
officers and crew, men and women of all nations and tongues,
all apparently in full possession of equal rights and liberty of
conscience.

1 To-day again is Sunday. I do not attend the church
service, the better to indulge reflection unrestrained under the
high canopy of heaven, amidst the expanse of waters. This
mode of passing the Sabbath became habitual with me in early
life — then 'midst other scenes than here, it is true ; yet if more
consonant with my feelings (as the world of woods, plains, and

146 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

mountains ever is), certainly not less impressive. All the sounds
of inanimate nature are of mournful solemnity — the rush of many
waters as on the mighty ocean, the roar or whisper of the winds
through the shadowy forest, the endless murmur of the waterfall,
the patter of the summer shower, all tending to excite mournful
meditation.

' Two glorious objects met my view to-day — the first sight
of the rising sun and the first sight of land.' Standing by the
side of Mr. Combe as the steamer glides by the varied coast of
England, the artist remarks, ' It is a beautiful world, Mr.
Combe.' ' Yes,' replies the philosopher, ' but what a pity man
is not in harmony with it.'

The traveller landed in England, June 17, 1840. Nature
now gives way to Art. Another world opens before him. On
reaching London his first purpose is to see ' Old Masters.'
Other sights and wonders, of course, receive attention, but those
of art are paramount. Apart from the professional interest of
his observations, his notes are curious in another way : we have
the judgment of a self-taught artist, with no teacher or guide
but nature, on the works of superior artists who had enjoyed
every professional advantage, as well as all the public support
that time and social development could furnish. The day after
his arrival he goes to the British Institution, containing a fine
collection of ' Old Masters ' derived from private galleries.

' I repaired there with my companions to enjoy for the first
time the long and fervently desired view of genuine works by
the Old Masters. I saw them without suspicion of their ori-
ginality — Wouvermans, Cuyp, and Van de Velde, Rubens, Van
Dyck and Murillo, Poussin, Both, Carlo Dolce, the Carracci and
Guercino, Teniers, Ostade, and Gerard Dow.' Subsequently, on

THE ROYAL ACADEMY. 147

visiting the National Gallery, he adds, ' I have seen the Old
Masters again. With some I am not a little disappointed, and
must confess that only a few, if any, surpass my preconceived
notions,' and these are Rubens, Murillo, Van Dyck, Rembrandt,
Both, Cuyp, and Salvator Rosa. He speaks in qualified terms
of Claude, the leading artistic divinity on landscape, and yet
4 what I have seen of his works is worth a passage across the
Atlantic'

Next come living English painters and their works, of which
the following extracts from the journal convey a general idea.

The Royal Academy Exhibition is soon disposed of.
' Some few pictures are of an elevated character, or, at
least, display elements of high intellectual effort, especially in
conception and design ; at the same time these are marred by
crudities. I observe only in a few works expression and
character, while correctness in drawing, solidity, finish — natural-
ness, in short, I look for in vain.' The exhibition of water-
colours, however, excites admiration. ' The higher qualities
of these works are by no means inconsiderable. I question
whether they do not evince an equal, if not a higher, degree of
talent than the oil pictures of the Royal Academy. The sketchy
style and artificial management (pervading faults of the English
school) appear, if not appropriate, at least less objectionable in
water-colour than in oil pictures. One hardly expects the sober,
quiet tone, the depth and mellowness, the transparency and
glow in the former department, which is found in the finished
productions of the latter. I was accordingly agreeably surprised
to find these qualities in no small degree among the water-
colour productions both in landscape and figure subjects, even
to a greater extent than in most of the corresponding productions

148 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

in oil, also in the higher traits of fine character and expression
occasionally met with. Their aim, however, appears too
generally directed to the attainment of brilliant and striking
effects, both in light and dark as well as in colour. The quiet
loveliness of Nature, the subdued and modest aspect, brilliant
without crudeness and rich without glare, like the gentle and
most estimable virtues of the moral world, are but too often
forced down or overlooked amidst the glitter and exuberance
of ostentatious display.'

Leaving pictures for painters, he calls on Mr. C. R. Leslie.
' The evening passed in the most agreeable manner, chiefly
devoted to looking over a portfolio of sketches in water-colours,
produced at several years' meetings of the long - established
Sketch Club of which Mr. Leslie is a member. This portfolio
contains sketches by A. E. Chalon and brother, Uwins, Stan-
field, Landseer, Partridge, Crystall, and Leslie himself. Many
were begun and finished in one evening, particularly those of
A. E. Chalon, the most conspicuous for gracefulness, composi-
tion, and character. . . . All present a surprising display of
imagination and graphic skill, especially when it is taken into
account that they are extempore works.'

Mr. Leslie having favoured him with an introductory letter
to Sir David Wilkie, he visits this artist the next day.

' We were shown into a drawing-room hung with numerous
engravings from his own pictures. Sir David soon presented
himself — a blunt, honest-looking Scotchman, of rather gruff
aspect and manner. After a few brief inquiries relating to
our voyage, he conducted us into his atelier and there dis-
closed without reserve the secrets — the very modus operandi
of his professional labour. He showed us first his picture of

SIR DJFID WILKIE. 149

Columbus demonstrating the probability of the existence of
another continent to three or four personages on his first visit
to Spain, as related by Irving. Figures as large as life and
of fine character, and the story is well told ; but a picture of
inferior merit compared with his smaller works. Of the latter
there were several on his easels, merely commenced ; one in
particular, in which there were ten or a dozen heads beauti-
fully laid in and nearly finished ; other parts of the canvas
were untouched, except a careless drawing-in of the general
design, with small portions of figures and patches of background
slightly painted. The subject of this picture is " John Knox
administering the Sacrament." There were two or three other
works of smaller dimensions, one a " Village School," a beautiful
composition and replete with nature in the various attitudes
and occupations of the juvenile assembly.

' But what most interested me in the interview with Wilkie
was the disclosure of his process in painting. The ground of
his canvas is white. After having determined his design in
general composition and effect of colour by small sketches, the
whole is carefully drawn in without any apparent aim at correct-
ness or precision in detail ; the principal heads are then carefully
painted, as above specified in the subject of " John Knox," after
which the background and the rest of the picture are thinly
dead- coloured, indicating the general disposition of colour, light
and dark. This done, he proceeds to make careful finished
drawings in black and white chalk on tinted paper, from models,
of the most important portions of the figures and groups, whole
or in part, according to their prominence in the picture ; and
from these drawings he paints, and, if I have not misunderstood
him, he finishes such parts without recurrence to nature, except

i5-o LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

in heads, if even there. Many of these studies I saw scattered
about his rooms — heads, arms, hands, legs, and feet, all beautifully
drawn. Such is a general outline of his process, especially in
small compositions. He said that he preferred to paint in the
principal heads on the white canvas and at once, as far as
practicable, as he thereby obtained more clearness of colour,
sharpness, and solidity, rather than dead-colouring an effect
after the manner of some who depend on frequent repeti-
tions.'

Mr. Sheepshanks' collection, next visited, furnishes him with
a text for remarks on other works by Leslie as well as by other
English masters.

' Two by Leslie are among his best works, and one, at
least, a scene from the Merry Wives of Windsor, unsurpassed
perhaps by anything he has ever done. Falstaff, Anne Page,
Slender and Shallow — figures in this picture — are in their best
dress, and indeed no artist has represented these characters equal
to Leslie. There are several of his works illustrating Shake-
speare, all very beautiful ; but the most recent ones are more
crude and less agreeable in tone, though nowise deficient in
character. There are also a number by Turner, Stanfield,
Constable, Calcott, and Landseer, one by Wilkie, and several
by other artists. In Turner I have not yet been able to
discern the high degree of excellence which is conceded to
him. He appears to me, indeed, the most factitious and
artificial of all the distinguished English artists. I discover in
him much of imaginative and poetic power, but that appears
developed at too great a sacrifice of truth and propriety. At
all events, if Turner is to be judged by the acknowledged
standard of excellence presented in the works of the Old Masters,

CONSTABLE.

151

or by nature in the commonly received acceptation of the term,
he must be found wanting.*

' Edwin Landseer has merits that no one disputes. His dogs
and other animals are indeed exquisite, and some of his finest
works are in this collection ; for manipulation he is doubtless
unequalled. There is great sweetness and classic elegance in
the coast scenes of Stanfield, always pleasing and often eminently
beautiful ; yet there is often too much of opacity in his colour
and too much of scenic style in his execution. I saw in this
collection one picture by Constable evincing more of simple
truth and naturalness than any English landscape I have ever
before met with.

' In the evening, paid a second visit to Leslie to make our
acknowledgments for his kindness and bid him adieu. He
showed us several sketches by his deceased friend Constable
in water-colour, pencil, and other styles of drawing, exhibiting
great attention to Nature under her changing aspects, all from
home scenes and common familiar objects ; among others, a port-
folio of oil studies from clouds and skies in general, with notes
on the backs stating the hour of the day, direction of the wind,
and kind of weather. All his sketches were very slight, but
indicating much naturalness and beauty of effect. Constable was
above the influence of want, and hence not dependent on his
art for support ; his pictures were not popular in his lifetime.

* During this visit he saw Turner, and visited the house where his paintings
were kept. Few were admitted to this den, which was a wilderness of accumu-
lated studies and works in every stage of progress. In after years he thus mentions
Turner in ' Letters on Landscape Painting ' (see Appendix) : ' Turner gathered
from the previously unexplored sky alone, transcripts of Nature whose mingled
beauty of form and chiaroscuro have immortalised him, for the sole reason that he
has therein approached nearer to the representation of the infinity of Nature than
all that have gone before him.'

152 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

'Mr. Leslie stated to us the following fact — which to the
admirer of true art is not much to be lamented — that the
distinguished Turner has his house literally filled with his own
productions; that even in his cellar are stored away many of
his former works which he has not looked at himself for years.
This accumulation is owing to his extravagant prices, not being
obliged to sell at a moderate rate, having acquired great wealth
by his drawings made for engraving, of which he has produced
an infinite number.'

Such is an estimate of the works of the leading English
artists of the day. Of the English school in general he has a
less favourable opinion.

' In the school of British art, technicalities evidently receive
the principal attention, not from any deficiency in imaginative
power or poetic imagery — for these qualities, together with
sentiment and character, often abound — but the language in
which they are expressed is either inflated in style or replete
with affectations, the choice of subject seldom evincing any
loftier aim than commonplace passion and scenes of familiar life.
Happy touches in execution or felicitous combinations of colour,
peculiar or difficult of attainment, or simply of rare occurrence,
without reference to naturalness, or consistent with admitted
principles of beauty, are sought for and dwelt on with undue
admiration ; unobjectionable and perhaps commendable when
properly subordinated to higher qualities, these are too often
converted into models for imitation — dangerous models, because
they are finally aimed at as an end, instead of a means for the
attainment of an ulterior object. Everybody knows that too
much attention to the mechanism of style, or to conventional
rules for painting, necessarily leads to a subversion of the spiritual

A MASQUERADE. 153

and intellectual meaning of art. It is thus with the English
school. Artificial beauty may at first sight be highly attractive
on account of insinuating smiles and graces, but which on close
examination is found to be little else than heartless and un-
meaning grimace. To make use of another figure, Mistress
Art in England tries to impose on her enamoured admirer a
painted cheek instead of the glow of health. The last works

of Leslie and Wilkie are almost the only exceptions

Unfortunately, these distinguished painters in their recent pro-
ductions demonstrate the danger of contact with error, turning,
as they have, from their former chaste and true style to the
present superficial and negligent, or rather studiously careless,
manner of their contemporaries.'

The journal, besides professional observations, contains sun-
dry descriptions of London and its sights, which are thus
summed up : —

' In the evening, having been complimented with a ticket,
price one guinea, I attended a masquerade ball. Pursuant to
regulations, I provided myself with a black mask, to which my
sense of propriety was much indebted, for I should have blushed
to " see my natural face in a glass," as one of the motley throng
assembled on this occasion in this licensed scene of folly and
depravity. There were about two or three hundred characters
in the assemblage in various costumes, some of them in good
taste, some in bad, and others in no taste ; some were masked
without any other disguise, and some without any disguise but
that of decent men and women. Of the female portion in par-
ticular, the less said the better. I saw but one or two women
whose countenances seemed at variance with the occasion, and
one, more especially, whose soft, pensive eye and graceful brow

154 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

revealed, indeed, "too much of heaven on earth to last" — of
too fair and delicate texture to sustain for length of years the
blighting influence of sensuality and midnight revel. I soon
left the rooms, with no desire to revisit them.

' I have not seen one half of London, but I have perhaps
seen its fairest side. It seems to me a city of prosperity and
abundance ; richness, variety, and often magnificence strike one
at every step through its principal streets, and it is only through
these great thoroughfares that I have passed. That there are
haunts of poverty and wretchedness equally startling, and
perhaps more extended, I well know, but I have not sought
them ; on the contrary, I have avoided them as unprofitable
spectacles and often unsafe. In the country, as far as I have
been, all is like a vast garden of the richest cultivation. The
houses, though mostly old and picturesque from the wear and
tear of time, are always cleanly and neat, with a real air of
comfort and convenience. But I know this is not the case all
over England. It is not difficult to see that the general means
of living are far more slender and limited than with us. The
eagerness to make a penny apparent among the common people,
and the readiness to take money for the slightest service, even
by persons decent and respectable in appearance, who would
consider themselves insulted in America by the offer of a six-
pence, and who are not only ready to accept it but take care
to let you know that they expect it if you withhold it — these
appearances are too frequent not to convince you, at once, that
John Bull is not so rich and happy a fellow as some signs
indicate ; but he has treated me well for the most part, and I
am not disposed to complain.'

The time |had come for departure. After passing seven

PARIS. 155

weeks in London, he leaves for Paris, July 31st. His sojourn
in this great city, still more strange than London, with other
features of beauty and interest — 'Since I have got into France
I feel as if I was in reality transformed to another planet ' — is
devoted to sight-seeing, including, of course, the public collec-
tions of art ; but as he is not in Paris for work, and is in haste
to get to Switzerland, and especially Italy, the centre of attraction
for an artist in those days, he leaves it at the end of a fortnight.
I quote from his journal only the following observations of
professional import, taken at random : — 'David appears to have
sown the first seeds of a corrupt style, for, previous to his time,
it appears to me that the French possessed much of the purity
and chasteness of the Italian school.' He visits the Luxembourg :
' Our next object was the Salle des Tableaux, or picture-gallery,
appropriated solely to the works of modern French artists, of
which there are about two hundred specimens, most of them
large historical subjects and fine examples of the school in this
department, in which, in my judgment, the French artists are
far superior to the English. It is true these figures are too
often academic and what is termed theatrical, with exaggerated
action and expression ; but their finished drawing, anatomical
correctness, character, and grandeur of composition, entitle them
to an elevated rank as a school of art. . . . Paris is indeed the
most gay, the most refined, the most filthy and corrupt of all
cities, concentrating in itself all that is attractive and all that
is repulsive in every other.'

Passing through Belgium, he arrives in Antwerp at the
moment of the inauguration of the statue to Rubens, in honour
of whom the whole town is en fete. ' We had indeed arrived
at a fortunate moment to witness the public regard for the fine

156 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

arts, and the profound veneration in which the citizens of
Antwerp, from the highest to the lowest, hold the distinguished
masters to which their country has given birth. Wherever we
passed, the streets were thronged with happy faces of every
class, age, sex, and condition ; all labour was suspended but
that of contributing to the festivities. The sidewalks were
hung with festoons of white drapery interspersed with ever-
greens, together with tablets bearing the name of the great
artist and extending through all the principal streets, while
Peter Paul Rubens, in large white letters by day and illu-
minated by night, appeared on the spire of the great cathedral,
five hundred feet above the ground. It is here that masters in
the fine arts are duly honoured ! It makes me proud to be one
of the fraternity ! The religious festival of the Virgin, the
patroness of Antwerp, was also celebrated in connexion with
the fete to Rubens, but the Father of the Flemish school of
art seemed to have supplanted even the Virgin Mary on this
occasion.'

Italy was the objective point of the painter as far as art is
concerned ; Switzerland seemed the country par excellence with
respect to nature. Passing through Holland and up the Rhine,
both of which excite unbounded admiration, he reaches Basle
September 9th, and gives a month to Swiss landscape, which
he thus sums up : —

' I had seen pictures of the snow-capped Alps, but I had
never seen anything either in pictures or in nature so glorious
and beautiful as the real mountains of this unrivalled country.
It is in vain to attempt to describe or paint them ; their pure
white peaks — shining on the clear blue sky or mingling with
the light fleecy clouds that seem to love to linger round their

FLORENCE. 157

summits, in contrast with the soft blue tint of their lower
portions, opposed to the rich green hills, luxuriant trees, brown
cottages and cultivated fields, the latter traversed with streams
or on the borders of the lakes, and these again varied by bold
projecting rocks on their shores and by sloping meadows —
present that which is most grand and beautiful in creation, all
combining the features of spring, summer and winter in one
brief view, and in one short day.'

Here the journal ends, October 11th, and is not resumed
again with the same attempt at description. The details of the
rest of the tour are jotted down in hasty notes. His pilgrimage,
of which Rome is the Mecca, finally ends in Italy. On reaching
the promised land he lingers awhile on the beautiful Italian lakes,
and then passes on to Milan, Venice, Bologna, devoting a few
days to each, and at last rests for twenty days in Florence,
where he finds his countryman, Horatio Greenough, who makes
his sojourn there extremely agreeable. After accomplishing
something in the way of painting, he reaches Rome and there
settles for the winter. In Florence, unable to copy certain
pictures which happen to be engaged by other artists, he begins
the ' Ruth and Naomi,' previously mentioned, with which he
soon becomes discouraged and sets aside ; finding a ' Turk ' in
picturesque costume, a vendor of Oriental curiosities and willing
to sit for his portrait, he paints him and pleases himself ' better
than usual' — doubtless because nature was his model. He next
paints a small semi-ideal landscape in which he introduces the
Duomo, inspired by a Claude effect. After this he copies
Rembrandt's portrait of himself in the Palazzo Vecchio. In
one day he ' advanced the head so far as to surprise a young
lady who had been employed for weeks on a picture of some

158 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

female saint, while an English artist told me that my rapidity
astonished the Italians.' The effect of the art of Florence on
his mind is found in a phrase of one of his letters from that
city : ' Could I have passed a few earlier years in Florence I
might have been a painter — but not of landscapes ! '

It is evident that my father had ' Claude on the brain,' and
was puzzled how to estimate the works of the creator — or, at
least, populariser — of modern landscape art. Accustomed to
regard Claude as a divinity, he found himself in the attitude
of a disputer for the truth in relation to a recognised orthodox
authority. There seems to have been a struggle in his mind as
to which was right, nature or this ' old master.' The following
draft of a letter to his friend Mr. Cole, the only one to whom
he could express professional doubts, shows the dilemma and his
final conclusion in the matter : —

' I am in Florence, as you perceive. You have been here
and know what it is much better than I do. I only wish you
were here that I might talk to you, and hear from you, at least,
something that would assure me that in crossing the Atlantic,
the English Channel, the Seine, the Rhine, the Rhone, the Reuss,
the Aar, the Po, and finally the Arno, that I have not also
crossed the Styx, for I am often sufficiently bewildered, wretched,
and desolate to warrant that conclusion. I presume Florence is
much the same as when you were here, abounding in the treasures
of art and many other objects of exceeding interest and beauty,
together with no small degree of filthiness and excessive bell-
ringing. How I came here you have yet to learn. I wish I
could tell you how I have tugged and toiled up hill and down,
over waters, plains, and mountains, thro' towns and cities,
palaces and galleries, till my limbs have failed thro' weariness,

CLAUDE. 159

and my brain (I wish it was larger) has become bewildered.
Every desire for novelty and excitement is gratified to satiety.
I have gone, like a child on a holiday festival, to look at great
personages and their works, and after seeing them I have said to
myself, like that awe-stricken individual on seeing Washington,
" He is only a man." The old masters were only men, but they
were great men, and, like all great men, sometimes did little
things, or, at least, things that might be done by little men ;
and, even in all their greatness, how much was owing to the
circumstances of the times and which, under similar circum-
stances, might not be done in our own day ! Still, I would
not have you infer that I underrate their greatness, or that I
have not enjoyed the privilege of contemplating their works ;
on the contrary, I have stood before them with the full measure
of veneration, and yielded my humble tribute of admiration and
applause.

' I presume you would like to know my impression on
examining productions which, as poor old Paff used to say,
" make boys of us all." In these degenerate times I hear you
ask me what I think of them, and of Claude in particular.
Well, the first picture that I saw of his disappointed me ; the
second, third, fourth — aye, and seventh — did not meet my
expectations. All, strictly speaking, were landscapes ; but when
I came to his seaports, the " Embarkation of St. Ursula " and
the " Queen of Sheba," I could realise his greatness in the
glowing atmosphere and moving water. I have also seen
others of his landscapes which, in light, colour, truth, and
nature in certain points, are worthy of his high reputation.
But the result of my observations thus far is the conviction
that the glorious field of landscape-painting has never yet been

160 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

so successfully, so fully cultivated, not even by Claude, as have
other branches of art depicting the action and passions of men.
The loftiness and pureness of Raphael and others, who have
best succeeded in embodying the immortal spirit of man, leave
little to desire. Individual objects have perhaps been as well
expressed as paint and skill can ever express them ; and it
may be hopeless to expect more perfect light and atmosphere
than we find in the seaports and, occasionally, other scenes
by Claude. Still, I have not felt in contemplating them that
I was so completely in the presence of Nature, so absorbed
by her loveliness and majesty, as not to feel that the portrait
of her might be at least, in some important feature, more
expressive of character. But one result I found in all, as
well in landscape as in figures : those which approach nearest
to the desired perfection bear indisputable marks of deep,
unceasing study and proportionate toil. In the latter, Paul
Veronese and Rubens appear to me to have accomplished
more with less labour than any others ; but, may it not be —
and in the best works I am convinced it is — that appearances
of ease are but appearances which conceal the real extent of
labour? You may remember a Claude in the Palazzo Vecchio,
a seaport painted for the Medici family — a glorious work,
but what minute and elaborate finish and what a multitude of
small parts admirably managed and forming a harmonious
whole ! So far as I have seen, he attempted nothing beyond
a soft, unruffled day — no storm effect, not even a common
shower. He has little imagination. I should suppose his
pictures to be all compositions from nature, often beautiful
and judiciously arranged, yet not remarkable for varied and
picturesque scenery. His poetry seldom rises above the pastoral

ROME. 161

and descriptive ; but here he is, indeed, exquisite. He seems
to have had no knowledge of English effects, not even of
cloud shadows ; he is simple and true to Nature in her broad,
open light, either of morning or evening, and there finding
sufficient charm.'

We now bid good-bye to Claude, and accompany his critic
and admirer to Rome. At this time Rome was the art centre
of the world. Statues by the great sculptors of antiquity, along
with paintings by the equally great artists of the Renaissance
epoch, formed the school to which students of art flocked from
all countries. Technical secrets were supposed to be got at by
copying venerated masterpieces, as if the feeling of genius could
be evoked by imitating forms in colour or in marble with the
stroke of a brush or the blow of a chisel. Few artists, if any,
tried to comprehend the motives of classic or Renaissance art
by a study of the sentiments and energies which animated society
in these two culminating periods of human grandeur ; technical
means were not regarded as subordinate, just as style is sub-
ordinate to sense in the works of the giants of literature.
Winckelman and Lessing, again, the most celebrated art
theorists of the day in treating antique art — the former according
to alleged aesthetic rules, reducing beauty and expression to
mathematical precision, and the latter assigning to art limited
emotional impulses — misdirected most minds. Worship of the
old masters, nevertheless, was on the wane. The works and
powers of French artists in selecting and treating modern
subjects, the productions of Gros, Gericault, Vernet, Delaroche,
and Delacroix, for example, along with the growing schools of
landscapists in France and England, who derived their inspira-
tion direct from nature, and opened up a new field for public

1 62 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

taste, gradually displaced them. German theories and Italian
methods slowly give way to the delineation of events and
personages belonging to the actual modern world, at once com-
prehensible to artists and the public. The standard of merit,
found in the real of the present, instead of the ideals of the
past, is established by the schools of Paris, Dusseldorf, and
Munich. Rome, nevertheless, at this period was an attractive
city, a place of repose. Neither politics nor business formed
general subjects of conversation, and no newspapers of any
account disturbed the mind. Papal sovereignty suited the
temper and interests of the population. Taxes were adapted
to the condition of the poor, and based on the natural activity
and resources of the country. Foreigners half supported a
people whose country, like Switzerland, surpasses others in
beauty. Living is cheap. c I pay eight dollars a month for
my studio,' says our artist in one of his letters, which he
thinks is dear, ' including two small rooms besides, and six
dollars per month for a bedroom at another place, very neat
and well furnished. I pay about seven cents for breakfast,
which consists of tea or coffee, half milk, and a couple of rolls.
I dine at half-past four on two or three dishes, as may be, good
beefsteaks, pudding, &c, which commonly cost about two
cents each ; then I generally lunch at noon for three or four
cents more.' American artists enjoy other advantages. Com-
mercial men from America, exhausted by a business life and
travelling for health, and who had never bought a work of
art, stop at Rome, catch the art infection, and give commissions
for pictures and statues which never would have been given at
home, to say nothing of the ' original ' old masters they buy
' at a bargain ' at the suggestion of a courier or hotel-keeper.

ITALIAN MODELS. 163

Take it altogether, Rome, at this time, unlike the Rome of
to-day, with its triple alliance, boulevards, tramways, locomo-
tives, and other 'modern improvements,' afforded an agreeable,
tranquil, and picturesque retreat. Our artist enjoyed and
profited by it. His intention was to have made numerous
copies for which he had commissions, but, unable to get access
to the pictures he wanted to copy, he improved his time in
another way : governed by his instincts as usual, he painted
from nature. What he accomplished is partially recorded in the
following extract from one of his letters : —

' I have just commenced a copy of a portrait by Titian
for my own study, which I shall finish with three or four days'
work, and, when done, if nothing else comes in my way, I
shall paint " on my own hook." I am making arrangements
for doing some studies from the old " codgers " who walk the
streets here in all the dignity of bearded majesty, old patriarchs
who go about looking as if they belonged to a period two
thousand years ago.'

These old ' codgers,' the models for artists of. saints and
apostles, with every variety of expression — meek, devout, and
energetic, according to the required character of this or that
picture — and others again of modern significance, such as the
model for bandits, the representative type of Italian human
nature adapted to the romantic tastes of travellers, posed to
him, eight in number, and, as portraiture, form some of the
best of my father's work. Besides these he painted a ' Piper,'
one or two peasant women in old-time costumes of the country,
and a donkey, which, to give sittings, was hauled up the stone
steps of his studio by ropes. The last and most elaborate of
his productions in Rome consists of a study from a female

164 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

model called by him ' II Pappagallo,' an effort to treat a subject
in the tone of an ' old master.'

While thus engaged, his friend, Mr. F. W. Edmonds,
arrived, and gave new zest both to his studies and his travels.
Mr. Edmonds worked with him in his studio. After finishing
their labours, an excursion to Naples and its environs was
projected and carried out, occupying about a month. My
father, it must be noted, was not fond of travel ; its business
details worried him, and, moreover, a journey for pleasure took
time which he would rather devote to work. The whole tour,
indeed, he regards as an exile, and to be got through with as
soon as possible. In his journal he often records depression of
spirits and longings for home. But the company of a congenial
companion revived his energies and made travel less irksome.
Time, in any event, was never lost. A multitude of pencil
drawings in outline, taken at every place visited by him,
attest his industry. With Rome, however, his pilgrimage
ended, and he was now to turn his face homeward. In
company with Mr. Edmonds he revisited Florence, stopping
at various picturesque towns on the way, and next Bologna,
Ferrara, Venice, and Milan, reaching Paris the middle of May.
On June 20th, 1841, we find him at Liverpool on the deck
of the steamer Britannia, bound for New York. The following
extract from a letter, although written in Switzerland some
months previous, expresses the sentiment of the time and
occasion : —

' I wish to continue in Europe as long as it shall be pleasant,
for the benefits it will yield me as a landscape-painter — for that
object no country in the world can equal it ! But for purposes
more important, of higher interest than can be found in this or

AN ICEBERG.

Reproduced from the Original Sketch made on the Steamer 'Britannia,' June 1840,

in the possession of J. Durand.

Heliogravure Dujardin: Printed by C. Mlttmann.

ote to work. The wholf tour,

and to be got through with as

records depression of

..^ia^S^ltftl^company of a congenial

^4?\^ftd4sss«\r&9&m%ft

rfi -^v^j^uj^tude of pencil

. . ...... , ■. , .

some
and

be pleasant,

er — for that

;t for purposes

i this or

.'.-■ ?WN&lSi

ICEBERGS. 165

any other country, give me our own dear native land ! I can
look with admiration and wonder on the beauty and sublimity
of the scenes now before me ; I can look with gratification and
advantage on the great works of art, as I have done in England
and on the Continent, and still expect to do in Italy : yet when
all this looking and studying and admiring shall have an end, I
am free to confess that I shall enjoy a sight of the signboards in
the streets of New York more than all the pictures in Europe ;
and for real and unalloyed enjoyment of scenery, the rocks,
trees, and green meadows of Hoboken will have a charm that
all Switzerland cannot boast ; only let me see them in the
presence of family and friends, and they in health and pros-
perity. " Fly swift around, ye wheels of time, and bring the
welcome day." '

On the voyage his brush is brought into requisition by a
sight of icebergs, of which he makes some water-colour drawings
for himself and his fellow - passengers. On reaching Boston,
having a few hours of leisure, he visits the Athenaeum, where
there is an exhibition ' of some old acquaintances which did not
look as well as formerly — Stuart is an exception,' the last entry
in his journal, and significant in relation to the effect of his tour.
One effect of it is apparent in a list of the works executed the
first two years after his return, as follows : ' Castle Blonnai,'
' Cottage on Lake Thun,' ' Oberbasle,' and ' View on the
Susten Pass,' in Switzerland ; ' Church at Stratford-on-Avon,'
in England ; ' Oberwesel,' on the Rhine ; and ' On the Island
of Capri,' in the Bay of Naples. All were painted from pencil
drawings inscribed with memoranda of colour and clouds ; none
were painted direct from nature, and accordingly lack certain
essentials of truth and fidelity. In treatment and colour the

1 66 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

Swiss subjects suggest reminiscences of ' old masters,' while the
others are painted in conformity with the sentiment of American
nature, so different from that of Europe. In England, with its
moist, vapoury atmosphere, mostly a grazing country, where
hedges and single trees abound, the foliage of which is richer
in hue and their forms more picturesque, the prevailing green
is deeper in tone ; on the Continent, with landscape elements
unknown in America, a broad expanse of surface not marred
by fences, diversified by grey towns and by clusters of red-
roofed houses in the villages scattered around, checkered with
fields of grain and vines, and where the hills and mountains
consist of tinted rocks and crags, the colour is still further
removed from green and far richer. In our ' green forest land,'
on the contrary, such elements are wanting. Our soil, over-
spread with an almost uniform culture, consisting of cultivated
clearings amidst masses of woods reaching to the tops of all
elevations, monotonous and paler in hue on account of the
drier climate, is peculiarly green, except late in the autumn,
when the dying foliage puts on brilliant tints and colours
that transcend the resources of the palette. In reply to
a criticism once made on his works that they were ' too
green,' an objection made only after the appearance among us
of modern European landscapes, my father simply observed,
' I paint green because I see nature green.' And so he con-
tinued to paint, using other pigments only as the local colours
and tints of objects demanded, never forcing his brush according
to a conventional theory of colour or the practice of other
schools.

167

CHAPTER XI.

The Period of Production — Prosperity of the Country — The Art Union War
— Benefit of the Institution — Record of Works — Resigns the Presidency
of the National Academy of Design — Summer Excursions — Life in the
Woods — -Art in a Western City — Studies from Nature — The Crayon —
Rise and Decline of the American School.

THE experimental period of my father's painting career
having come to an end ■ — that in which he was
acquiring knowledge and self-reliance, the productive
period — that of the full maturity of his powers— now begins.
Portraiture is still his main dependence. A growing dislike
of this branch of art, however, owing to the necessity of
depicting uninteresting subjects, coupled with the caprices of
sitters, especially ladies, determined him to abandon it as soon
as possible. Fortunately, his increasing reputation as a land-
scape-painter enables him to do it safely. Nature now gives
him sittings according to his fancy, and finds no fault when he
fails to detect and depict her beauty.

Moreover, he can better rely on the support of the com-
munity. The times are propitious. Public taste and wealth
have increased proportionately. Between 1836 and 1839, in
the short period of three years, the prosperity of the country,
due to various causes, had increased enormously. The develop-
ment of the South and West had acquired immense impetus by
which New York, the great entrepot of the continent for both
inland and foreign commerce, benefited beyond calculation.
Immigration, with its coincident impulses, gave rise to every

1 68 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

sort of enterprise, especially land speculation, and to such an
extent as soon to bring on a collapse — over-trading, over-pro-
duction, hard times, and a commercial crisis. In consequence
of this, about 1 840, universal depression ensued. Society seemed
paralysed. Dull times, like a plague, provoked gloomy retro-
spection. People refrained from amusements. The curtain of
the old Park Theatre rose often to audiences of only thirty
people ; on one occasion, only one person being present, to
whom his money was refunded, the curtain remained down.
Public entertainments consisted chiefly of courses of lectures,
while revivals, of which Elder Knapp and the Rev. Mr. Kirk
were the principal and effective leaders, met with great success.
Notwithstanding all this, capital had accumulated, certain fortunes
had been secured, incomes were not only liberally but extrava-
gantly expended, and society, as usual, interested itself in other
things. Among these, art obtained its share of attention. Art
opened another road to new men ambitious of social distinction,
and ' many there were who travelled that way.' The American
Art Union arose — an institution successfully managed by com-
mercial men ; a fresh, opportune, and powerful patron of art,
it exercised an important influence on the development of the
American school. Mention of it here is again necessary on
account of an incident that reveals a trait of character in the
artist as well as in the relationship of this institution to the
National Academy of Design.

The rise and fall of the American Art Union is somewhat
singular. Starting in 1840 under the title of 'The Apollo
Association,' on the lottery principle, it distributed among its
members, who became such by a subscription of five dollars,
original paintings and engravings by native artists, the latter

art union rivalry. 169

held to be worth the price of subscription, and given to all
members alike. At first the institution ' dragged its slow length
along ; ' subsequently, on changing its name to ' The American
Art Union,' and conducted by energetic merchants, it flourished.
' The Art Union, in the management of its business, purchased
its stock, advertised and exhibited its goods, employed its agents
and clerks, just like a merchant.'* One of its prizes, c The
Voyage of Life,' a series of landscape compositions by Cole on
four large canvases, offered a temptation so irresistible as to run
its subscribers up from eight hundred to sixteen thousand. The
progress of the institution, consequently, for a few years was
rapid, and to the detriment of the National Academy of Design.
Always mistrustful of the injury, the Academy, nevertheless,
favoured the growth of its rival in consideration of its benefit
to art. ' It would be a happy thing for the world,' says the
President of the Academy, quoting a passage from Aristotle,
' if artists were to be made the sole judges of the arts ; but
we are favoured with canonists and nobility as arbitrators who
are quite unacquainted with our concerns, and these again have
certain managers, as they are termed on the stage, or, as
iEschines calls them, pettifoggers of the forum, who cajole the
public' He endorses the rival institution (then the Apollo
Association) in the following terms : ' We do not believe that
the class of those who wish to " cajole the public " in this
matter is very large ; indeed, we are quite sure that the mass
of those who associate for the encouragement of art in our
city are impelled by motives truly liberal.' This was un-
doubtedly true, and while Mr. Bryant held the office of Presi-
dent of the institution, the Academy ran no risk ; but under
* Art Union Bulletin, 1853.

170 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

his successor, Mr. Prosper M. Wetmore, the spirit of its
management changed. An unprecedented income enabled more
prizes to be offered than usual, while artists naturally sent
their works to the best market, the effect of which was to
decrease at once the attraction and the revenue of the Academy-
exhibitions. In the spring of 1848 the breach between the
two institutions ended in war. The following incident shows the
nature of it. My father had become President of the National
Academy, and, contributing to its exhibition pictures of interest,
he naturally reserved those painted by himself for his own
institution. An important work was then on his easel. Aware
of its destination, the managers of the Art Union instigated a
connoisseur to purchase the picture, and thus prevent its
exhibition by right of ownership. The plan was carried out.
The connoisseur called, expressed his satisfaction with the subject,
and, although informed that the painting was to be exhibited in
the Academy, secured it. When completed, the picture was
framed and sent to the Academy, where, according to rule, it was
to remain until the exhibition closed. Just as the exhibition was
about to open the purchaser claimed his property, insisted on
its delivery, and finally carried things so far as to take out a
writ of replevin and call in the aid of the sheriff. At this
stage of the proceedings the Art Union authorities concluded
to compromise the matter. The following letter, written, it
must be noted, on ' April Fool's Day,' prescribed the conditions,
which, indeed, transformed a serious matter into a farce : —

«New York, April 1, 1848.
'A. B. Durand, Esq^

' Sir, — We address you as friends of .Mr. , authorised

to act for him in reference to the picture painted by you which is now

ART UNION RIVALRY. 171

said to be in the Gallery of the Academy of Design. On behalf of
Mr. we propose that you shall concede to him the proprietor-
ship and possession of the picture, and, taking it from the Exhibition
Room, place it in the frame made for it. This being done we most

cheerfully, in behalf of Mr. , place the picture at the disposal of

the National Academy for exhibition.

4 We are,

' Respectfully yours,

' P. M. Wetmore.'

These conditions were accepted and fulfilled. The picture,
removed into a side room and transferred to the frame provided
for it by the owner, was then replaced in the exhibition. The
incident is a sign of the times in illustration of art encourage-
ment, and, again, a manifestation of the character of the artist :
mild, yielding, and undemonstrative in all relations, my father
in this case, and mainly in defence of the interests of the
Academy, as well as of the profession, maintained his ground,
notwithstanding that many of his artistic brethren, surprised
at a degree of stubbornness so unusual, recommended him to
consult his interests and yield. His sole revenge consisted in
drawing a caricature of Art Union amateurs, which, however,
remained unpublished. The ill-feeling between the institutions
soon subsided. Mr. A. M. Cozzens succeeded Mr. Wetmore
as president of the Art Union. In 1847 tne National Academy
of Design, obliged to raise money to pay off indebtedness,
effected this purpose by a sale of pictures contributed by its
members, which, through the good offices of Mr. Cozzens, the
Art Union purchased en masse. Afterwards, in 1853, when
the Art Union came to an end, on the discovery that it was
violating the law concerning lotteries, a service of plate was
presented to Mr. Cozzens in recognition of his services in the

172 / LIFE OF A. B. DURJND.

cause of American art, to which the artists of the Academy
gratefully contributed. All that remains to note in connexion
with the ' Art Union war ' is the fate of the picture that caused
the belligerent state of things. On the close of the exhibition
in which it appeared, the picture was sent home. The owner;
some months later, on entering his drawing-room early one
morning, found the pictures on its walls cut to pieces, and this
one so badly injured as to be irreparable.

The illegality of the American Art Union in no way inter-
fered with its influence upon the progress of art. Evidence of
this is found in the increase of the number of artists. In 1836
they could be counted on one's fingers; in 1851, when the Art
Union fell under the ban of the law, American artists formed
a large body. The collection of paintings that was to have been
distributed this year, and sold at auction in 1853 to close up
the institution, numbered three hundred and ninety-five works,
executed by over two hundred and fifty artists, most of them
born on the soil. During the period of the Art Union's
existence it distributed two thousand four hundred works,
besides numerous original engravings. The institution, if not
the creator of a taste for art in the community, disseminated a
knowledge of it and largely stimulated its growth. Through
it the people awoke to the fact that art was one of the forces
of society. How far the Art Union was serviceable to individual
artists may be gathered from the fact that, one year, it purchased
ten of my father's works.

During this period of twenty-seven years, most of the land-
scapes on which our artist's reputation depends were produced.
The following record, accompanied with necessary comments,
gives a list of them according to date and importance :—

LIST OF WORKS. 173

1845. 'An Old Man's Reminiscences,' a large landscape
composition, inspired by the sentiment of Goldsmith's poetry,
painted for Mr. George W. Austen. Leaving his hands, it was
subsequently bought by subscription for the Albany Gallery of
the Fine Arts, and is now in that institution. — ' Close of a
Sultry Day,' of smaller dimensions, belongs to this year.

1846. 'Passage through the Woods,' painted for Mr. A. M.
Cozzens : a large upright composition, the main interest of which
is a vista beyond the massive trunk of a tree characteristic of
local forest scenery. Novel and original in treatment, this work
proved popular, and was followed in after years by others of
the same order. On the sale of Mr. Cozzens' collection at his
death, this picture was purchased by Mr. Morris K. Jessup, who
now possesses it. — ' An Old Man's Lesson,' suggested by the
following well-known lines in As You Like It: —

' And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.'

Purchased and distributed by the American Art Union, this
work fell to the lot of a subscriber in Mobile, Ala., who sold
it to Mr. E. Parmele of New Orleans.

1847. A 'Landscape Composition,' painted for Mr. Edwin
Hoyt. — ' Forenoon ' and ' Afternoon,' for Mr. James Robb of
New Orleans, lately in the Boston Museum of Art, and probably
the least successful of his works.

1848. 'Dover Plains,' purcimed against so much " red tape," and asked to see it. It
was brought out. It was a design by Wight, very much like
our building as it now stands, but more beautiful and picturesque.
We called for a reorganization. The Vice-President took the
chair ; we reconsidered the previous vote, and almost unanimously
decided for Wight's design.

' Our excitement, and the vexation at the withholding of
the best design, betrayed us into this lawless disrespect to our
honoured President. As one of the culprits, I may say it was
outrageous, and Durand was justly indignant. We apologised;
the whole body of Academicians joined in a petition, but he never
took the chair again.

' I must say that, though he was resolute in refusing to
condone this unmannerly proceeding of ours in his official
capacity, he was personally as kind and friendly as ever to

COUNTRT EXCURSIONS. 183

every one of us ; if possible, even more so. I believe he was
glad to escape from the anxiety and responsibility of the presi-
dency, and resume the even tenor of his studious life.

' I am confident he was happier, and grateful for an occur-
rence which furnished him with a good opportunity of retiring.
He wished to do so some time before, but felt bound to remain
in the office on account of the large amount of money which
his two friends, Jonathan Sturges and Chas. M. Leupp, had
loaned to the Academy, in great measure out of personal
regard to him, and on bonds which Durand had signed as
President, and for the payment of which he felt an honourable
responsibility.'

More must be said of the summer sojourns in the country,
forming, as they do, important episodes of my father's pro-
fessional career, and, besides this, furnishing details of his ways,
habits, and thoughts. His first object was always to study
from nature. After the toil of the winter months both vigour
of mind and body required restoration at the fountain-head of
his inspiration. Hoboken no longer offered picturesque oppor-
tunities. Generally speaking, these country expeditions led him
to seek wild regions, before railways had penetrated to their
recesses, where only a few scattered inhabitants could be found,
almost as primitive as the forests, lakes, streams, and mountains
around them. He visited, according to opportunity and as
facilities for travel by main lines increased, every region in the
North supposed to be pictorially available ; always branching off"
to escape civilisation, ever ready to 'rough it' over corduroy,
muddy, or sandy roads, in stage-coach and on ' buck-boards,'
to the great weariness of the flesh ; stopping in the wilderness
wherever the forms and colour of rocks, the trunks and

184 LIFE OF A. B. DURJND.

branching of particular trees, the verdant masses of middle-
distance, and the lines of the mountains answered to his search
for the beautiful The following places visited by him, at
which he sojourned for weeks or months according to their
respective attractions, show his familiarity with the scenery of
his country. The banks of the Hudson River, near home, like
Hoboken in early years, come first in order — ' Jacob's Valley,'
at Kingston ; then, farther west, every nook, corner, and ' clove '
in the Catskill, Shandakin, and Shawangunk mountains ; after
these, to the north, Lake George with Lake Champlain and its
shores, the Adirondacks on one side and the mountains of
Vermont on the other ; then, to the east, the White Mountains,
North Conway, West Campton, the Berkshire Hills in Massa-
chusetts, the Valley of the Connecticut, and again Lake George
for many seasons, all so many ' haunts of nature ' in the delinea-
tion of whose beauties his brush never grew weary.

Generally, his family accompanied him on these excursions.
In early years his pupil, Mr. Casilear, was his sole companion.
As time went on and a younger generation of artists grew up,
they would join him. Among these must be mentioned Kensett,
Cranch, Addison Richards, Hotchkiss, Hubbard, Alfred Jones,
David Johnson, Hall, and others ; E. D. Nelson, an amateur,
and the only pupil who worked in his studio; and Miss Josephine
Walters, whom he often advised in the pursuit of her studies.

Owing to the difficulty of procuring comfortable quarters,
good food, and good beds, in farmhouses and at country taverns
on these summer excursions, my father was induced in 1849 to
try a suburban residence of his own. He accordingly purchased,
near Newburg, on the Hudson River, a house situated on an
elevation overlooking the ' Vale of Avoca,' through which ran

A BUTTERNUT-TREE.

Stud? from Nature on Lake George, In the possession of J - Dttr.
Htli'gr,'i>urr p.ujar'dfh. Panted h\ C. Wltmti

(VD.

masses of middle-
nswered to his search
-isited. by him,
iths according to
y with the scener
^ear home,
Jacob's Valley,'
nook, corner, and ' clove '•
nk mountains ; ;?
ke Champlain and
.- mountain
White Mount:
: Hills in "
\ :id v ^ftn w £\&V ,v
^thedeii
tion of /rew weary.

these ns.

ii
ists grew

[ubbai ' I Jo

, an amateur,
Miss Josephine

.mrters,

SOCIETY AND WORK. 185

a somewhat picturesque stream. Unfortunately, romance yielded
to reality. The banks of the stream c meandering through the
vale ' were soon wanted for a railroad ; the ground was turned
up ; fever-and-ague made its appearance, drove him from his
country retreat, and obliged him to resume his annual search
for the picturesque in the undisturbed wilderness.

These excursions were in no sense pleasure trips. Dis-
comforts and privations of all kinds awaited him at every turn,
and were cheerfully accepted. The obligations and proprieties
of society, too — regarded as annoyances which interfered with
work — were always, when it was possible, avoided, as we see
in the following extract from a letter written in 1843, dated at
a certain place too civilised for his purposes : —

' We are all well here, except that I have a slight indisposi-
tion in consequence of visits and parties, from all of which in
future I am sworn off — except one that takes place to-night at
our house, from which I cannot well escape. I begin to be
sick of the place, solely on account of society, and if I knew
where to transport myself out of the way of such a nuisance, I
would do it forthwith ; but I conclude to remain and conceal
myself in the woods when I can't in the house.'

His own letters, as well as those by members of his family,
afford glimpses of the privations endured in those places, also
of amusements and of the society that he liked. Writing in
October 1848, from Palensville, at the entrance of the Catskill
Clove, he says, ' The Clove is rich in beautiful wildness beyond

all we have met with heretofore With the exception of

two days, the weather has been so cold that we have worked in
overcoats and overshoes, and, in addition, have been obliged to
have a constant fire alongside for an occasional warming, all of

B B

1 86 LIFE OF J. B. DURAND.

which I have endured pretty well, with no worse effect than a
slight cold.' At another place he says, ' I caught a fine trout
which I ate for breakfast — the only decent one I have had since
I came here ; sour bread, salt pork, and ham being the staple
commodities.'

' Besides Casilear and Kensett,' writes one of the family, ' we
have Mr. Volmering, the Dane, with us, or, at least, next door,
so that we have plenty of talk — amusing, bad English — and
smoking every evening. You will see that, although retired,

we are not lonesome The bar-room does all it can to

lighten our troubles. Wet floors are disagreeable and tobacco
smoke in a close room unpleasant, but we all put on the best
face and contribute our mite to the general fund of amusement,
playing cards indoors when it rains, and, out of doors, singing
and guessing conundrums, our stock of which is so exhausted
that we shall have to exercise our faculties in some other fashion.
Our amusements are all of the quiet kind except one, with which
every new-comer, friend or stranger, is, in our lawlessness,
generally greeted. Each of the party is assigned a separate
syllable of a particular sound, which, at a given signal, is
vociferously expressed, the result being one grand sneeze
especially astonishing to strangers. I leave you to imagine
what the effect would be were you to enter a room containing
twelve or fifteen persons of different ages, some so quiet and
grave in appearance as to preclude the suspicion of a joke, and
find them all at once joining in a deafening sneeze and suddenly
bursting out in a laugh at your astonishment!'

At Geneseo (1856) he is annoyed by the poor quality of
colours and canvases ; he writes, ' With all my trouble I believe
I have learned more of the management of colours in the

ART PATRONAGE IN THE WES^. 187

painting of tones than by all my previous practice, although
I have never produced so little in the same space of time,
having made only four studies in five weeks.' An examination
of these studies shows minute drawing, unsurpassed in those
made in other places.

One season my father and Mr. Casilear happened to be
studying nature in the valley of the Mohawk, during the
anti-rent troubles on the Van Rensselaer estate. Provided with
camp-stools, easels, and other sketching paraphernalia, they
found themselves watched by masked men for some days, and
finally were told that they must decamp, as surveyors were
not allowed there !

Knowing the desire of the painter for picturesque spots,
his friends would often recommend this or that place, as they
thought it adapted to his studies. It is curious to note in this
connexion that, with most of them, the picturesque was always
an extensive prospect. Among letters of this kind, I find one
written from a prosperous city west of the Alleghanies and
which now contains collections of paintings worthy of note.
The writer is on his travels in the year 1853, and, apparently,
in search of works of art. The painting he alludes to was a
supposed ' old master.'

' I hope you will excuse the liberty I take in addressing you respecting
an old oil painting I have picked up in this land of hogs, corn, and
negroes. How it came here I know not. We have here people from
every part of Europe — German, Swiss, Dutch, French, Spanish, and
Italian. I find the natives here have no taste for the Fine Arts — 'tis
like throwing " pearls before swine " — but for a fine mule, a fat hog,
or a fine stout negro, who will readily bring $1000, they have a pretty
considerable relish. Flesh and blood, both of man and beast, will always
bring ready cash ; paint and canvas are much below par. Some of your

LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

Eastern artists, who paint by steam, have made several trials here at
auction. A lot of one hundred and fifty works, with elegant gold-looking
frames and plenty of red, blue, and yellow paint, were offered the other
day; about four or five people who appeared to be buyers attended. A
few pictures were knocked down, perhaps to sham bidders, at a less
price than the cost of the frames. The owner, if wise, will never try
again. Half-a-dozen might sell at Christmas or New Year, which would
suffice for twelve months.'

These details furnish a sort of background to artistic life
in the woods. A few words are here pertinent in relation to
the studies from nature, the fruit of all these varied experiences.
An artist once visited the studio of my father in the city,
and, after carefully examining his studies, exclaimed, ' Mr.
Durand, where did you find such trees ? ' He replied, designa-
ting one of the principal forest regions or the State of New
York. ' Well,' said the visitor, ' I have been all over those
woods, and I never saw trees like these ! ' — for the reason,
perhaps, that perceptions or insight differ, or, which is most
probable, methods of study. My father's practice was, while
faithfully painting what he saw, not to paint all that he saw.
Finding trees in groups, he selected one that seemed to him,
in age, colour, or form, to be the most characteristic of its species,
or, in other words, the most beautiful. In painting its surround-
ings, he eliminated all shrubs and other trees which interfered
with the impression made by this one. Every outdoor study,
as well as every pictorial composition, was regarded as a sort
of dramatic scene in which a particular tree or aspect of nature
may be called the principal figure ; other trees, as in the case
of a study, being subordinate and of relative value in giving
the most interesting object strong relief. To him, certain
objects and aspects were more beautiful than others, and not

AN OAK-TREE.
^udyfrom Nature on the Domain ofGu[im Q ^

L^ng Hudson River, in the possess of Robert Hoe, Eso
Hehogravure Dujardin. Printed by C. Wittmnnn.

e varied experiences.

father in the city,

exclaimed, 4 Mr.

,aa>l X-2LU He replied, designa-

.) wXWO'x? &&*esgioi* «« »*^14e««^ia^fef New

lV & ^ jrofe&fc gfei»tf|ft& f pp'*ji ■ !l <s W.over' those

elected on>.

.eristic c
ful. In pa'

nature

the case

i giving

i, certain

and not

THE « CRAYON: 189

so many details to be servilely and indiscriminately imi-
tated.*

We must now turn to other matters belonging to this
period. In 1858 the writer, jointly with Mr. W. J. Stillman,
had the misfortune to embark in a journalistic enterprise called
the Crayon, devoted to art and its interests. It proved un-
successful. To a man of large income, wishing to amuse himself
in the way in which another would run a yacht without regard
to expense, the venture might be termed practicable ; but to
one who relied on a paying sympathy for art in the community
it was a Quixotic undertaking, the folly of which needed only
experience to make intelligible. To help this enterprise my
father wrote for the Crayon a series of ' Letters on Landscape
Painting.' Hastily composed in his leisure moments, and
somewhat ' against the grain,' as literary efforts were now
out of his line, these letters have some interest on account of
his observations on the study of art and nature, as well as
giving an account of his methods in painting.

The rise of the American school of art has been exhibited
to a certain extent on the foregoing pages. Springing out of
the instinct for art common to all people who use objects in
nature to make the meaning of ideas and emotions widely
understood, it has its right to a place among the schools of
the world. Some of the influences stimulating its growth and
establishment have been traced. Up to the end of the period
with which we are now concerned, the school may be said to
have prospered, although a decrease of its prosperity becomes
apparent at an earlier date. The professional career of my
father indicates the period of its prosperity. At the end of
* See ' Letters on Landscape Painting,' in the Appendix.

190 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

his career, its decline is marked. The causes of this decline
are easily pointed out.

The American school of art begins with portraiture — a
favourite branch of art with the Anglo-Saxons.* Colonial in
its origin, it is the art of the country down to the advent of
Luman Reed, when landscape art begins to flourish. Very few
artists of that day, however, represent the practice of this
branch of art. In the succeeding generation landscapists multiply
speedily, which indicates an expansion of public taste. Historic
and other departments of ideal art also make their appearance.
The diversity and talent of the school at this epoch, to those
familiar with the society and scenery of the country which
inspires the artistic mind, is represented by the names of certain
painters, sculptors, and engravers, taken haphazard : — Hunting-
ton, Gray, Cheney, Casilear, Kensett, Darley, Ehninger, Rossiter,
Woodville, Baker, Church, Elliott, Bierstadt, GifFord, Whit-
tredge, MeEntee, Beard, William Hart, James Hart, Shattuck,
George Lambdin, David Johnson, Bristol, Hubbard, Colman,
Mignot, Hotchkiss, Leutze, F. B. Mayer, Eastman Johnson, and
many others among the painters ; of the sculptors, Greenough,

* ' In England, portrait-painting, which touched another sentiment besides
love of pure art, was the only form that was really encouraged. Painter after
painter, distinguished in other branches, came over to England, but they in-
variably found that they could succeed only by devoting themselves to the one
department which appealed directly to the vanity of their patrons. . . . "Painters
of history," says Kneller, " make the dead live, but do not begin themselves to
live until they are dead. I paint the living, and they make me live." . . . No
painter, however excellent, can succeed among the English that is not engaged
in painting portraits. . . . Hogarth described portrait-painting as " the only
flourishing branch of the high tree of British art." ' Canaletti, Vanloo, Watteau,
and Van Dyck, all famous in other branches, had to paint portraits on coming
to England. Lecky calls this the 'darkest period of British art.' See History
of England it. the Eighteenth Century, text and foot-notes, vol. i., page 529.

HOW AMERICAN ART SUFFERS. 191

Power, Rogers, Bartholomew, Ives, Ball, H. K. Brown, and E. D.
Palmer ; of the engravers, Danforth, John Cheney, Smillie, Jones,
Schoff, Burt, and Marshall. Each artist, it must be noted, has a
style of his own — a style entirely personal, due to original percep-
tions and impressions of external nature, as well as of dramatic
or pictorial elements belonging to local social experiences.

Unfortunately the American school of art is an invisible
factor among literary and other intellectual products of the
country. As far as native productions are concerned, they are
scattered over the country, hidden away in private houses and
displayed in gloomy drawing-rooms, where sunlight scarcely ever
penetrates ; colours here fade for want of light, and canvases
moulder under coatings of dust, damp, and gaseous exhalations.
Rarely do the owners lend them for public exhibitions. Even
when American works find their way out of private collec-
tions before the public, or, again, are purchased by local insti-
tutions, they are hung in proximity to works of older schools,
inspired by different sentiments and executed according to
different methods : American art thus suffers by comparison,
the same as the art of all modern schools suffers more or less
by contact with the masterpieces of the old masters. Introduce
a Rembrandt, a Raphael, a Velasquez, a Titian, or any work of
a great genius of the Renaissance epoch into the finest modern
collection, and all other works grow pale before it. What
America needs is a public gallery (like Kensington Museum
in London), where the works of American artists can be seen by
themselves, separate from all other schools and taken for what
they are — the fresh outcome of feeling and thought inspired by
a nature needing new interpreters.*

* What the effect of a gallery of this order would be, may be estimated

1 92 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

But it is not my purpose to enforce a special consideration
of the American school of art. It is sufficient to state to
those who have not arrived at a proper appreciation of it, that
if the country possesses able men of marked capacity, types of
intellectual achievement in other directions — if the country is
proud of a Hamilton, a Clay, a Webster among statesmen ; a
Cooper, an Irving, a Bryant, a Parkman among literary magnates ;
a Fulton among inventors, a Henry among scientists — it has
equal right to be proud of a Stuart, a Vanderlyn, a Trumbull,
an Allston, and a Cole among the artists.

We have now to dwell for a moment on the decline of the
prosperity of the American school of art at the end of this
period. Its growth has been attributed to the fostering influence
of the commercial spirit which rules in the community ; its
decline is due to the withdrawal of this fostering influence,
diverted away from it by the introduction into the country of
foreign art. The causes of this can be only briefly and sum-
marily stated.

The eclipse of American art may be said to begin with the
establishment of the Dusseldorf Gallery in New York in 1 849,
a gallery which owes its existence to Mr. John G. Boker, a
resident in Dusseldorf for twenty years, and afterwards Prussian
consul in the city of New York. Intimate with the artists of
Dusseldorf, and divining probably, with true commercial sagacity,
that America might prove a good market for their works, and
probably, again, influenced by Leutze, who, although born in
this country, was to all intents and purposes a Dusseldorf artist,
Mr. Boker obtained a fine collection of their works and placed

by the fine private collection of works wholly by American artists made by
Mr. T. B. Clarke in New York, a worthy successor of Luman Reed.

'TASTE FOR FRENCH ART. 193

it before the New York public. The exhibition proved a
success, but not in the way of sales. The Dusseldorf school
had no prestige, and, besides this, the public were not prepared
for it either intellectually or financially. Some people regarded
the pictures as either painted by, or belonging to, a ' Mr.
Dusseldorf.' All it denotes is the first appearance amongst us
of foreign art on a large scale.

The private collection of Mr. John Wolfe comes next in
its influence — a collection largely Dusseldorf, and well known
among local amateurs. The gradual increase of French pictures
introduced into the country indicates the spread of taste in that
direction. The first French work which excited the public
mind was ' The Horse Fair,' painted by Rosa Bonheur, and
purchased by Mr. W. P. Wright for seven thousand dollars.
Here the sensational elements necessary for stimulating public
curiosity were at hand — a work notorious in Europe, produced
by a woman, and for which more thousands of dollars were
given for a mere painting than ever before by a private individual
in America. The Press took up the theme, and spread the fame
of ' The Horse Fair ' far and near, aided by romantic details of
the artist's life. Next came a French work of kindred interest,
' The Duel,' by Gerome, bought by Mr. W. T. Walters of
Baltimore. It must be here stated that, at this time, the public
mind in America had been quickened in relation to art by the
writings and teachings of Ruskin. Whatever may be said of
the criticisms of works of art, ancient and modern, by this eminent
writer, of his estimate of special genius, of his theories, hobbies,
and idiosyncrasies, it is certain that he developed more interest
in art in the United States than all other agencies put together.
His remarkable word-painting, the theological bent of his mind,

c c

1 94 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

his ascetic temperament, his eccentricities, his moral injunctions,
furnishing both pulpit and press with material for sermons, news,
and gossip about art, making popular music on the three strings
of the mental harp to which the public ear is sensitive, spread
a knowledge of art among people who would not otherwise have
given it a thought. Ruskin himself, in his extreme admiration
of the works of Edouard Frere, gave an immense impetus to the
popularity of the French school. But Ruskin's influence was
confined to the intellect ; we have to do with the pocket. Two
well-advertised works that excited the taste of the rich have
already been mentioned. To these may be added the fine
collection of foreign works belonging to Mr. August Belmont.
In the times of pre-Raphaelitism, an English collection came
to this country and met with partial success, but not enough
to render English art popular among picture - buyers. The
inundation remained wholly French, increased rapidly, and
finally culminated in a ' craze ' that led to the purchase of
Meissonier's ' Charge of Cavalry ' for sixty thousand dollars, and,
at last, of ' The Angelus ' by Millet for one hundred thousand
dollars.

Of course this great influx of foreign art could not have
occurred without a corresponding expansion of wealth at home.
Beginning in the East, the wave of wealth rolled onward to the
Pacific. Through the profits of mines, railway enterprises, and
cattle-raising, it ran mountain high. A new generation of
energetic men indifferent to Eastern ideals spring up, and,
craving new outlets for the expenditure of their fortunes as
well as new criterions of social distinction, find these in the
adoption of a taste for art. Western millionaires begin to buy
French pictures right and left. Entering the markets of New

ECLIPSE OF AMERICAN ART. 195

York and Paris, they vie with each other and with their Eastern
rivals in seeing who could pay dearest for recognised master-
pieces. Other agencies help this furore along. Picture-dealers,
exercising the most influence, find in foreign art a gold-mine.
Realising profits of one, two, and three hundred per cent, on
the works that pass through their hands, they serve as inter-
mediaries between patron and artist, and keep the interest at
fever heat. The Press push on a cause equally fertile in news
items and sensational phenomena. Native students, finding
foreign art in the ascendant, abandon original perceptions and
imitate the methods and aims of a foreign school. Add to
this the one-sided admiration of this or that French ' Master '
whose life and career offer romantic episodes, ludicrously
exaggerated in the eyes of those familiar with the facts, and
we have a remarkable combination of influences which fully
explain the disappearance of local art — like houses and bridges
swept away in a mountain torrent. The American school
becomes out of fashion, and is even derided by native writers.
It is gravely asserted by one of these that there was no
American school previous to the founding of the Metropolitan
Museum in New York, while another asserts that it did not
come into existence until a much later period.

In thus attributing the decline of the American school of
art to the diversion of the native patronage which once ensured
its development, I do not deprecate or depreciate the result.
On the contrary, one cannot too highly esteem the introduction
into the country of foreign treasures of art of incalculable value
in every sense. Whoever wishes, indeed, to fully estimate
French art of this generation, can do it better in America than
in France, for most of its masterpieces are in our land. My object

196 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

is simply to explain a fact in the history of American art — the
eclipse of the American school, not yet at an end. Fortunately,
this eclipse is only temporary. Natural instincts for art
depending on American genius, patronage, and surroundings,
will yet assert themselves. The community will sooner or
later demand from its artists a conformity to the nature
around them, and an interpretation of it not according to
foreign standards of beauty or methods of execution, but as
they really see and feel it according to original and common
impulses.

197

CHAPTER XII.

Retires into the Country — Works produced there — Letter to a ' Patron ' — Lays
down the Brush for ever — A 'Surprise Party' — Evidences of the Esteem
of Young Artists — The Interviewer — Closing Years— Characteristic Traits —
Portraits of the Artist.

THE principal incidents and experiences of my father's
professional life are narrated ; we have now to follow
him into the country, where he passed the remainder
of his days. Apart from his taste for rural life and the desire
for repose natural at his age, he was obliged to leave the city
on account of annoyances which rendered the neighbourhood
of his home extremely disagreeable. He had passed fifty-four
years in the metropolis, and thirty-one of these in Amity Street.
When he established himself in 1832 in this street, it was on
the outskirts of the city, far above business tumult and fashion.
In 1869 it was 'down-town;' fashion had arrived at and long
abandoned the vicinity, while the immediate neighbourhood had
been invaded by foreign artisans not remarkable for cleanliness
or morality, occupying tenement - houses and the dilapidated
mansions of their predecessors. A retreat became imperative.
As it is dangerous to disturb a man seventy-three years of
age, accustomed to a certain routine, the problem consisted in
how to break up the confirmed habits of a veteran and establish
a new home for him in which the comforts and conveniences
of the old could be maintained. A transfer to an entirely new

i 9 ^ LIFE OF A. B. DURJND.

locality without associations of some kind was not to be thought
of. Fortunately, the family property at Jefferson Village (now
Maplewood) in New Jersey, near South Orange, belonged to
him, and was considered the most eligible place. Being his
birthplace and familiar ground, he would not be obliged to
accustom himself to new scenes and new society. The old
house in which he was born having been destroyed by fire, a
new one was erected on its site, provided with a larger studio
and a finer light than his former one in the city, and to this
he removed in April 1869. His favourite studies from nature,
arranged on its walls, surrounded him, and it was not long before
he was at his easel as if his labours had never been interrupted.
The residence of his son-in-law, Mr. George Woodman, built the
same time as his own a short distance toward the mountain,
furnished him with a convenient stopping-place on his daily
walks, and likewise pleasant chats with his daughter and grand-
children. At home the rest of his children lived with him
and relieved him of all household cares. Not far off an artist,
Mr. Gaston Fay, resided, while on the opposite side of the road
there soon came Dr. Alfred M. Mayer, of the Stevens Institute,
with his family. Add to these the always welcome calls of his
old pupil, Rev. Dr. Clover, and those of his physician, Dr.
Whittingham, who fully replaced Dr. J. C. Peters, his regretted
medical adviser in the city, and he enjoyed a society which
left nothing to be desired.

The few works executed by him during this final period of
his career sum up the labour of his life. The picture of
' Primeval Forest,' mentioned as belonging to the Corcoran
Gallery, and still at this time (1870) unfinished, first engaged
his attention. This received its final touches in the country

LETTER TO AN ART PATRON. 199

studio. After completing this work, he painted one or two
portraits and two small landscapes. The last picture of any
size produced by him is a ' View on Lake George,' still in
the possession of the family. In 1876 he produced a work
called ' Sunset on Chocorua,' purchased by Mr. J. B. Dod, of
Hoboken.

In 1873 my father, commissioned to paint a certain subject
by a gentleman who gave such minute instructions in the matter
as greatly to worry him, addressed the following letter to him,
giving some of his views in relation to painting by pre-
scription : —

' I have made all the alterations in the picture suggested
by you that I deem advisable. As to the picture meeting your
approval, I must add that it gratifies me to have those who
possess my works pleased with them ; at the same time, in
executing them, I cannot consult their taste beyond my own
in the matter of artistic completeness. Every condition on
which I undertook the picture has been fulfilled ; but not
wishing to urge it on you, and likewise unwilling to wait
until it may be convenient to you to take it, I request that
you will advise me by the fifth of February next whether you
will accept it as it is ; after that date I shall consider myself
at liberty to dispose of it to another party.'

An answer came to the following effect : —

' As you think you can dispose of the picture to another
person, I would suggest whether it might not be well for you
to do so and paint another for me. ... In another effort there
is but little doubt you would be able to satisfy me fully.'

Declining this proposal, the picture found a resting-place
elsewhere.

200 LIFE OF A. B. BURAND.

Time was dealing gently with the venerable artist during
these last years of his professional career. He enjoyed his work
as much as ever, his mind remaining clear and his faculties
apparently unimpaired ; most of his morning hours were passed
in his studio, the rest of the day being devoted as heretofore
to repose and exercise. Nevertheless, the strength which had
enabled him to pursue his labours so satisfactorily was gradually
giving way. His last picture, as is stated in the Memorial
Address, painted in 1879, was a 'Souvenir of the Adirondack^'
— a sunset, in which the softly suffused light, spreading over
a placid lake and quiet sky, aptly figures the tranquility of his
closing years. As he made the last touches to this picture with
a hand enfeebled by the weight of eighty-three years, he laid
down his palette and brushes for ever, saying that ' his hand
would no longer do what he wanted it to do.' This was a day
to which his friends and family had looked forward with appre-
hension. But their fears proved groundless. Accepting the
situation with his usual equanimity and unconscious that art
was for him a thing of the past, he left his studio without
a sign of depression, scarcely ever returned to it, and re-
sumed his rambles on the mountain, apparently content with
nature as he enjoyed it in his boyhood. Nothing in his
manner or bearing indicated a want of occupation, or that he
felt he had abandoned one on which the even tenor of his life
depended.

The reader may have remarked on these pages the many
evidences of good feeling and esteem for my father on the part
of his brethren of the profession. In 1854 a compliment had
been paid him by the body of artists and other friends in the
shape of a service of plate. Soon after his withdrawal to his

A SURPRISE PARTT. 201

new home in the country, in 1872, three years after leaving
the city, another manifestation of the same import was made
which, on account of its novel character, deserves special mention.
Mr. Jervis McEntee in his boyhood had consulted my father
in relation to the pursuit of art, and, having been eminently
successful, suggested to his brother artists a ' surprise party,'
consisting of a picnic in the woods of Maplewood, the material
for which in the shape of refreshments was to be carried along
with them from the city. The idea was approved of, and a com-
mittee appointed, consisting of Messrs. McEntee, Huntington,
S. R. Gifford, Kensett, and Hall, to carry it out. The 8th of
June was selected for the occasion.* The morning was rainy ;
before noon, however, the sky cleared and the day proved
charming. Nevertheless, the ground being wet, and the house
capacious enough for the festivity, the woods were abandoned,
while the lunch, spread on a table on the veranda, took place
with the usual toasts, speeches, and general hilarity characteristic
of an informal gathering and where none are strangers. Mr.
Bryant, a friend for more than forty years, made a graceful
address, followed by a feeling response on the part of him whom
all delighted to honour. Mr. Page, whose love for Shakespeare's
sonnets seemed irrepressible, availed himself of every chance to
rise and repeat one of these in spite of the amusing efforts of

* There were present at this party Mr. William Cullen Bryant, Mr. and
Mrs. Wm. Page, Mr. and Mrs. McEntee, Mr. and Mrs. Eastman Johnson, Mr.
and Mrs. Thomas Hicks, Mr. J. F. Kensett, Mr. and Mis. E. D. Palmer,
Mr. Brevoort, Miss Bascom (afterwards Mrs. Brevoort), Mr. W. Whittredge,
Mr. Launt Thompson, Mr. C. P. Cranch, Mr. J. Q. A. Ward, Mr. G. H.
Hall, and Mr. J. M. Falconer. Mr. Huntington (prevented by illness), Mr.
Alfred Jones, and Mr. H. K. Brown, were to have been of the number ; also,
as historiographet, Mr. John R. Thompson, but who, in delicate health, was
prevented from coming by the threatening aspect of the weather.

D D

202 LIFE OF A. B. DURAND.

Messrs. Hicks and Kensett, on either side, to keep him in his
seat. Others gave stories and souvenirs of the past. Two of
the ladies being accomplished pianists, music followed in the
drawing-room, after which walks in the woods and on the
mountain, until, towards evening, the party, whirled off to the
railway station behind four-horse teams, gave many and loud
cheers on bidding adieu to the venerable subject of their kind
ovation. Mr. McEntee thus characterises the festivity in a
general way in a letter to a friend : ' The picnic was a perfect

success It was a most satisfactory day, and I shall always

remember with gratification that my suggestion was so heartily
responded to, and that we were able to show in so fitting a
way our veneration for the old man.' Another evidence of
this veneration is supplied, in this connexion, in a letter to
Mr. McEntee from Mr. John F. Weir, resident at New Haven,
and unable to attend: —

' As to the designed honour and professional esteem for Mr. Durand,,
with that I heartily sympathise. I think we do too little, and cannot
do too much, to show our respect for the pioneers of our pathways
which have now become highways. I could sympathise with nothing
more heartily than with this, and I hope that you will not count me

absent in spirit when you are deep in the "champagne" libations

You are sure of having a glorious time, and in honouring Durand all
you " landscape fellows " honour yourselves.'

Many were the applications of young men to him during
his career for advice in the pursuit of art. In every case, and
always mindful of his early trials, he replied with all the fulness
and clearness that he could. In fact, it is these applications
which prompted his ' Letters on Landscape Painting,' published
in the Crayon, and previously alluded to. As a fitting close to
manifestations of this kind, I give a letter from Mr. Jared B,

TESTIMONIALS. 203

Flagg, kindly answering my request for any souvenirs of my
father that he might possess : —

'My Dear Mr. Durand,

' My relations to your father, though not intimate, have left
pleasing and valued memories. It is now more than fifty years since I,
a young art-student, called at his studio in Duane Street. I was from
New Haven, Conn., and a total stranger in New York. It was quite
an event for a lad of sixteen to call and introduce himself to a dis-
tinguished artist ! I well remember my emotions at the time. I was
embarrassed with a feeling of awe and diffidence as I rang the bell and
waited the opening of the door. Your father received me with a gentle
cordiality of manner that soon placed me at my ease. I told him I
had heard so often of him as the engraver of Vanderlyn's " Ariadne,"
and as a painter, that I was desirous to see him, and that I esteemed
it a great privilege to be admitted to his studio. He was full of the
spirit of the true artist, and the hour I spent with him was both
pleasant and profitable. He met my artistic enthusiasm as one deeply
interested in my success, and seemed to take pleasure in answering
numerous questions which I propounded relating to modes and methods
of painting. I carried from his studio the impression of a man of great
simplicity, sincerity, and amiability.

' A few years after this interview I came to New York to reside,
and occupied a studio on Broadway not far from your father's residence.
My success, which was very encouraging, was largely due to his interest
in my behalf. To persons inquiring for a portrait-painter, he would give
my name with words of commendation that carried great weight of
influence. Mr. Tileston, a man of wealth, interested in a line of trans-
Atlantic steamers, and a lover of art, offered to give to any artist,
desiring to study abroad, whom your father, then President of the National
Academy of Design, would nominate, a free passage to Europe. In the
second year of my residence in New York, I was honoured as your
father's nominee, but was unable to avail myself of the privilege. Such
kindly interposition for my advancement laid me under an obligation of
gratitude in which I shared with many others, for he was one who loved
to aid his fellow-men. I do not think that he had an enemy, and when in

204 LIFE OF A. B BUR AND.

the fulness of years he passed on to the higher life, the benediction of a
circle far wider than that of his family, or the community in which he
lived, followed him.

'It is eminently proper that such men should be embalmed in our
literature, and kept fresh in the memory of succeeding generations by
special biographical memorial. They are the common property of the
race, and I know of no more beneficent work than that of giving them
such prominence, that they who came after them may draw from the
record of their virtues, inspiration and encouragement.'

I add one more testimonial of this description furnished by
Mr. S. P. Avery, familiar with the artist's career in all
directions : —

' As for me, I like to talk with those who knew him, and thus refresh
my recollections of him — always kind to me, so simple in his manners and
in his ways of life, so modest in his claims to fame, so sound in his
judgment of art, such a helper to all seeking for information, so strong in
the right, so generous in his recognition of rising talent, so thoroughly an
American in the good old-time sense.'

Notwithstanding the removal to the country, the usual
summer excursion was not abandoned. My sister, who always
accompanied my father on these occasions, states : —

' We went twice to the Adirondacks and seven times to Lake George
after we removed to Maplewood, the last excursion being in 1877, in his
eighty-first year. We camped out twice, once at the Ausable and again
at Lake Placid. As it was the first experiment of the kind with him, we
were anxious about the result. But it turned out well. We hung his
corner of the tent with rubber blankets, and covered his bed of spruce
or balsam boughs with a buffalo robe, and though it rained hard three
nights there were no bad effects from it. Good camp-fires in front of
the tent, being so much in the pure air, and good meals, kept him well.
It was then that he made the studies for the picture now on the easel in
the studio, and his last work.*

A PINE-TREE.

Study from Nature on Lake George, in the possession of F. F. Durand.
Heliogravure Dujardin. Printed by C. WHtmann.

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LAKE GEORGE. 205

On one of these excursions, Mr. Huntington encountered
him, as mentioned in the Memorial Address, and thus alludes
to it : —

* Durand was fond of Lake George scenery, and there painted many
of his best studies. I visited the pleasant resort he frequented late in
the afternoon, as the shadows were deepening in the ravines of Black
Mountain. We were kindly welcomed by the white-haired artist, who
was smoking his quiet pipe on the old-fashioned stoop of the snug farm-
house, surrounded by a group of friends and members of his family. The
following day we made a party to row to Harbour Island for sketches and
a picnic. It was a lovely day in the early autumn. Harbour Island is
one of the beauties of Lake George — irregular in shape, varied by forests
and rocky shores, having a sequestered interior bay with a narrow
entrance, where the still, transparent water, protected from wind, reflects
every leaf. Durand, with his accustomed industry, was soon busy with a
study. Some sketched or strolled about, or lounged with idle oars to
various points of the shore. The views are beautiful. To the east rises
the massive form of Black Mountain ; to the south stretches the lake,
dotted by the hundred islands of the Narrows ; and the western outlook
is hemmed in by the broken outline, deep forests, and rocky precipices
of Tongue Mountain. In this fascinating region Durand calmly but
earnestly pursued his summer studies for several seasons. The serene,
translucent waters of Lake George were typical of the frank, placid,
and truthful spirit of the man.'

After he stopped painting his energies relaxed somewhat,
and he was content to remain at home. It might be supposed
that time would hang heavy on his hands, but this was not the
case. Early in life, before he relinquished engraving, he had
acquired a knowledge of French, which at this period proved
a great resource. He read nearly all the works of Renan and
of Taine, then appearing, and in the Revue Germanique found
a large collection of tales and romances. He always preferred
reading to himself instead of being read to. Most of his hours

206 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

in summer were passed on the veranda of his house, seated in
the sunshine, smoking his pipe and watching the life on the
road before him. Here he received the calls of his neighbours
and occasional visitors from the city. I am indebted to Dr.
Mayer, his nearest neighbour, for the following reminiscence,
showing the humorous side of the artist's character. My
father's aversion to the intrusive interviewer, without know-
ledge and with still less delicacy, who has no scruples in
speculating on private feelings or opinions, was very great.
Dr. Mayer found him engaged with one of those individuals,
questioning him on behalf of a certain health journal.
' Mr. Durand, I suppose that you never used tobacco ? '
' Yes, sir, I have always used it ; I smoke now, and when a
young man I chewed.'

' Ah ! but you did not drink ardent spirits. How is that ? '
' Yes, sir, I have, and do so now. My daughter has just
given me an egg-nogg with brandy in it.'

' Well, during your long life you have done a deal of work ? '
' That is true. I have spoiled a great many canvases.'
After this the interviewer, somewhat disconcerted, withdrew,
the information he obtained in no respect answering to his fore-
gone conclusions.

I add other reminiscences of the closing years of his life
furnished by Mr. Barnet Phillips in an appreciative article
already quoted from : —

4 Mr. Durand states that his scepticism in regard to maps and their
accuracy dates from an early period, a person who had left a map for
him to engrave having complained of the omission in it of a certain large
river ; requested to show where the river might be, he placed his broad
finger on a large county and observed, " Put it here, the river runs some-

CLOSING TEARS. 207

where about there." Alluding to the abandonment of engraving for
painting, " What a relief it was," said Mr. Durand, with youthful ex-
pansiveness, " to be able to stand for an hour before some fine tree, in
direct sympathy with it ! I had done so when a boy, on long summer
days, and now, when a man, I had a higher appreciation of it than
ever, and enjoyed it all the more — the great happiness of standing face
to face with nature ! " '

We now reach the closing years of his life. Enough has been
given on these pages, it is hoped, to enable the reader to form
some idea of the artist's temperament, habits, and disposition.
One or two details may be added. In a country where self-
interest is pushed to extremity, my father was an exception ;
personal interests, as far as these depended on any form of
self-assertion, were lost sight of. This absence of a calculating
spirit was accompanied with an even temper, never ruffled by
misfortune or disappointment. Losses, failures, afflictions, and
sacrifices always were accepted with unquestioning resignation.
If occasionally roused by some attack on his dignity or con-
science, his resentment was never of long duration. The same
serenity and equanimity continued to the last hour. Free from
organic disease, the last six years of his life passed away exempt
from suffering, and attended with no discomfort except that
which necessarily accompanies the decline of faculties impaired
by age. Unworldly in every sense, with no longing unsatisfied,
no work thai he had projected unfinished, no expression ever
denoted a regret in relation to the past or betokened any kind
of mental despondency. Day after day passed tranquilly,
without loss of interest, according to the state of his faculties,
in persons or things around him. Surrounded by his children
and grandchildren, every want and feeling gratified, he thus

208 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

glided gently along until the final hour was reached. Those
who loved him have the satisfaction of knowing that his life
ended in an honoured, happy, and beautiful old age.

It is not in my province to estimate the professional capacity
or the character of the man. An abler pen than mine — that of
Mr. Huntington — early familiar with him in all relations, of
kindred powers and aims, associated with him officially and
socially, and his successor in the presidency of the National
Academy of Design, bears witness to these points in the
Memorial Address: —

' Durand was endowed with certain traits which combined to form a
great artist. He was early smitten with the love of nature ; his native
patience was strengthened by the severity of his early struggles, and to
these was added an indomitable perseverance. His love of nature was a
passion, an enthusiasm always burning within him ; but it was like a
steady fire, not a sudden blaze quickly sinking to ashes. His patience
enabled him to guide this intense delight in beauty into paths of quiet,
steady search for the result. It was touch after touch, line upon line,
a gradual approach to victory. Added to this was his untiring perse-
verance, which no difficulties could overcome, no obstacles diminish, or
even cold indifference discourage. Though full of nervous energy, alive
to every beauty, keenly sensitive to criticism, and a severe critic on his
own work, he was yet blessed with a certain serenity of spirit which
checked and soothed the restless fever of the creative brain ; a fever often
so violent in the painter or the poet as to cause a deep and sometimes fatal
reaction and depression. Durand formed a habit of working on and on
cheerily till the coveted prize was gained.

' He maintained that a landscape-painter in his early studies should not
only make careful copies of nature in the fields, but be trained by drawing
the human figure, both from the antique and from the living model.
Accuracy of eye, with facility and exactness, can rarely, if ever, be
acquired without such practice. Such a training quickly asserts itself in
the modelling of forms in mountain, rock, and forest, in cloud structure,

PORTRAITS OF THE ARTIST. 209

the lines of waves, &c. The forms of inanimate nature seldom demand
absolute accuracy of drawing ; but in accessory figures, buildings, and
animals, it is essential. Durand, through his drilling as an engraver of
figures, and especially of portraits, was habitually true and exact ; yet he
dwelt with great fondness on those qualities which depend on the pro-
cesses and mysteries of the art, the rendering of subtle and infinitely
varying effects of atmosphere, of fleeting clouds, mist, sunshine, twilight
obscurity, and the thousand wondrous phenomena which form the
peculiar glory of landscape.

'The whole fraternity of artists were proud of his achievements,
reverenced his character, and looked up to him with affection. In the
midst of the beautiful surroundings of his home, in a house standing on
the spot where he was born, he tranquilly passed a serene old age,
modestly wearing the laurels won by the faithful struggles of a noble
and useful life ; and patiently submitting himself to the will of God,
calmly awaited the summons which, on the 17th day of September,
1886, at the venerable age of ninety years, called him to the eternal
life beyond.'

It is only necessary to add that the Rev. Dr. Clover, his
pupil and friend, officiated at the funeral ceremony, and that
the interment took place in Greenwood Cemetery.

There are several portraits of my father. The first one
is by Wm. Jewett, painted before 1825. After this comes a
portrait painted by Colonel Trumbull in 1826, and, next, another
painted by E. Metcalf about 1830. He painted his own portrait
for the National Academy of Design about 1835. Mr. W. T.
Walters commissioned C. L. Elliott to paint a portrait of him,
now in his possession. In 1864 a copy was made by Mr. Elliott
for Mr. S. P. Avery, who published an engraving of it by John
Halpin. This copy, bought of Mr. Avery by Mr. John Taylor
Johnston, is now in the Corcoran Gallery at Washington. Mr.
Huntington painted a portrait of him for the Century Club,
representing the artist seated on a knoll under trees, engaged on

E E

210 LIFE OF A. B. BUR AND.

the picture of ' Franconia Notch.' Rowse made an excellent
drawing in the possession of the writer. A bust by H. K.
Brown, modelled in 1854, is in the possession of the National
Academy of Design. There is a medallion by Kuntze, a
cameo medallion by Saulini, made in Rome in 1840, and a
medal bearing his head by Muller, issued by the Artists' Fund
Society.

My task is finished. This work is an attempt to exhibit
the life of an American artist dependent for the development of
his talent on the natural taste for art in the community in which
his lot was cast. Whatever his artistic merits may be, his
rank in the profession will be assigned him by posterity. If
I have succeeded in explaining his career by documents that
furnish some idea of his sentiments, associations, and experiences,
and have been able to arouse interest in the life of one who loved
nature and portrayed its beauty as he found it to the best of his
ability, my efforts have not been in vain.

APPENDIX.

Extracts from ' Letters on Landscape Painting! -published
in the ' Crayon] 1855.

' Dear Sir,

' I am compelled to return an unfavourable answer to
your application for admission into my studio as a pupil. Among
the many instances in which I have found it necessary to return a
refusal, your case most interests me, on account of the earnest love
of nature you manifest, and the strong desire you express to devote your
whole time and energies to the study of Landscape Art. I hope the
disappointment will not be regarded by you as discouraging, for I can
readily imagine you may have over-estimated the advantage of such lessons
as you desire at my hands, and I take occasion to submit for your con-
sideration, by way of encouragement, some remarks resulting from my
own experience under circumstances very similar to your own. With
the same love of beautiful nature from my childhood, and the corre-
sponding desire for its development through the knowledge and practice
of Art, I was, by several years, older than yourself before I was able
to devote even a small portion of my time to the favourite pursuit. I
then thought as you now think, that if I could but obtain a few lessons
by seeing an experienced artist work, or working myself under his eye
and direct instructions, most happy should I be. That privilege, how-
ever, I never enjoyed ; and subsequent years of toil and study have
somewhat modified my estimate of the value of such privileges. Indeed, I
am almost certain that instead of any real benefit resulting from it, the
greater chance is, that in most instances it will prove pernicious.

' It is true that the pupil may thus save time in the acquisition of

212 APPENDIX.

certain technical knowledge, mechanical processes, most suitable colours,
&c. ; at the same time he is, at least, in danger of losing his individuality,
and from the habit of seeing with the eyes and following in the track
of his master, becoming in the end what is most offensive in the mind
of every true artist, a mere imitator, a mannerist.

' You need not a period of pupilage in an artist's studio to learn
to paint ; books and the casual intercourse with artists, accessible to
every earnest young student, will furnish you with all the essential me-
chanism of the art. I suppose that you possess the necessary knowledge
of drawing, and can readily express with the lead pencil the forms and
general character of real objects. Then let me earnestly recommend
to you one Studio which you may freely enter, and receive in liberal
measure the most sure and safe instruction ever meted to any pupil — ■
the Studio of Nature.

' Go first to Nature to learn to paint landscape, and when you shall
have learnt to imitate her, you may then study the pictures of great
artists with benefit. They will aid you in acquiring the knowledge
requisite to apply the skill you possess to the best advantage — to select,
combine, and set off the varied beauty of nature by means of what, in
artistic language, is called treatment, management, &c I would urge
on every young student in landscape-painting, the importance of painting
direct from Nature as soon as he shall have acquired the first rudiments
of Art. If he is imbued with the true spirit and can appreciate and
enjoy the contemplation of her loveliness, he will find in the conscien-
tious study of her beauties all the leading principles of Art. Let him
scrupulously accept whatever she presents him, until he shall, in a degree,
have become intimate with her infinity, and then he may approach her
on more familiar terms, even venturing to choose and reject some portions
of her unbounded wealth

' True Art teaches the use of embellishments which Nature herself

furnishes ; it never creates them If you should ask me to define

conventionalism, I should say that it is the substitution of an easily
expressed falsehood for a difficult truth

' Form is the first subject to engage your attention. Take pencil

APPENDIX. 213

and paper, not the palette and brushes, aud draw with scrupulous
fidelity the outline or contour of the objects you select, and, so far as
your judgment goes, choose the most beautiful or characteristic. If
your subject be a tree, observe particularly wherein it differs from those
of other species : in the first place, the termination of its foliage, best
seen when relieved on the sky, whether pointed or rounded, drooping
or springing upward j next mark the character of its trunk and branches,
the manner in which the latter shoot off" from the parent stem, their
direction, curves, and angles. Every kind of tree has its traits of
individuality — some kinds assimilate, others differ widely ; with careful
attention these peculiarities are easily learned, and so, in a greater or
less degree, with all other objects. By this course you will obtain the
knowledge of that natural variety of form so essential to protect you
against frequent repetition and monotony. A moment's reflection will
convince you of the vital importance of drawing, and the continual demand
for its exercise in the practice of outline, before you begin to paint.

' I know you will regard this at first thought as an unnecessary
restriction, and become impatient to use the brush, under the persuasion
that you can with it make out your forms, and at the same time produce
colour and light and shade. In this you deceive yourself, as many
others have done, till the evil has become irremediable ; for slovenly and
imperfect drawing finds but a miserable compensation in the evident
efforts to disguise or atone for it, by the blandishments of colour and
effect

' Although there are certain principles constantly guiding the hand of
the true artist, which can be defined, classified, and clearly understood,
and, therefore, communicable — yet the history of Art from the beginning
does not present a single instance where a thorough and scientific
knowledge of these principles has of itself produced a truly great artist,
for the simple reason that such knowledge never can create the feel-
ing which, overruling all principles, gives the impress of true greatness.
I caution you, therefore, against reliance on theoretical or technical
directions which I or any one else may give in the course of your
studies, further than as means which you are to employ subject to your
own feeling

2i 4 APPENDIX.

1 Waste not your time on broad sketches in colour ; such only can
be useful to the mature artist, as suggestive rather than representative.
You had better look at all objects more with reference to light and
dark than colour ; but do not infer from this that I would depreciate
the value of colour, for it is of inestimable value. It is, however, a
sort of humoursome sprite or good demon — often whimsical and difficult
of control — at times exceedingly mischievous, spoiling many a good
picture as if with mere malicious intent ; but when experience shall
have acquainted you with its tricks and its virtues, you will understand
better the worth of its service.

1 "■ You had better learn to make shoes," said the venerable Colonel
Trumbull, one day, to a stripling who was consulting him in reference to
his choice of painting as a profession — "better learn to make shoes or dig
potatoes than to become a painter in this country." I felt that this
was a harsh repulse to the young man, and most unexpected from such
an authority. I was not then a painter, but secretly hoping to become
one. I felt a strong sympathy for the victim, and thought he was
unkindly treated ; but I can now imagine that there might have appeared
to the mind of the veteran artist sufficient ground for such advice, and
that it may have been an act of kindness rather than severity. It is
better to make shoes, or dig potatoes, or follow any other honest calling
to secure a livelihood, than seek the pursuit of Art for the sake of gain.
.... Through such motives the Art becomes debased, and a picture
so painted, be its subject landscape or figure, may well be considered
but an empty decoration. But, fortunately for Art, such is not its true
purpose ; it is only through the religious integrity of motive, by which
all real artists have ever been actuated, that it still preserves its original
purity, impressing the mind through the visible forms of material beauty
with a deep sense of the invisible and immaterial, for which end all this
world's beauty and significance, beyond the few requirements of our
animal nature, seems to be expressly given

'To appreciate Art, cultivation is necessary, but its power may be felt
without that ; the feeling educates itself into the desired appreciation, and
derives from it a coi responding degree of pleasure, according to the purity
or depravity, the high or low character, of the Art that awakens it

APPENDIX. 215

4 1 have already advised you to aim at direct imitation, as far as
possible, in your studies of foreground objects. You will be most
successful in the more simple and solid materials, such as rocks and
tree-trunks, and, after these, earth-banks and the coarser kinds of
grass, with mingling roots and plants, the larger leaves of which can
be expressed with even botanical truthfulness ; but when you attempt
masses of foliage or running water, anything like an equal degree of
imitation becomes impracticable.

' It should be your endeavour to attain as minute portraiture as
possible of these objects, for although it may be impossible to produce
an absolute imitation of them, the effort to do so will lead you to a
knowledge of their subtlest truths and characteristics ; thus, knowing
thoroughly that which you paint, you are able the more readily to give
all the facts essential to their representation. This excessively minute
painting is valuable, not so much for itself as for the knowledge and
facility it leads to.

' There is a marked distinction between imitation and representation,
and if this distinction be at first difficult to comprehend, it will become
more and more apparent as you advance. Although painting is an
imitative Art, its highest attainment is representative, that is, producing
such resemblance as shall satisfy the mind that the entire meaning of
the scene represented is given.

' Truth of colour and general harmony, whether of warmth or
coolness, will satisfy every eye ; if the picture fails in these it is false
somewhere, while if the artist devotes himself with overweening fondness
to a preconceived notion of any particular quality of colour, without a
primary regard to truth in its adaptation to his subject, he can scarcely
fail to produce an incongruity, and thus fix the attention of the observer
on the nice mixture of pigments rather than on the sentiment of his
work. Nothing is more common among pretentious critics, as well as
artists, than commendations of this and that picture for certain fine
qualities of colour ; it is a favourite theme with the conventionalist, and
when these peculiar qualities evince extraordinary skill, all other con-
siderations are thrown aside, and the painter becomes distinguished for
that alone. Thus many a young artist is sadly misled, seeking for
something that he does not see or feel, and blindly falling into servile

2i 6 APPENDIX.

imitation of some prominent leader in the display of these much-lauded
qualities

' All the best artists show that the greatest achievement, in the pro-
ducing of fine colour, is the concealment of pigments and not the parade
of them ; and we may say the same of execution. The less apparent the
means and manner of the artist, the more directly his work appeals to the
understanding and the feelings. I shall never forget the reply of Allston
to some friends who were praising a very young student in Art for great
cleverness, especially in the freedom of his execution. "Ah," said he,
"that is what we are trying all our lives to get rid of." With that he
opened a closet, and brought out a study of a head that he had painted
from life, when a young man, at one sitting, and placed it beside a finished
work on his easel, at which we had been looking. " There," said he,
" that is freely painted." No other comment was required ; in the one,
paint and the brush attracted attention, in the other neither was visible,
nothing but the glow of light and colour which told its truth to Nature —
and thus it is with the works of all the greatest colourists. Their skill
lies in the concealment of the means by which the desired effect is
attained ; consequently their productions defy the sagacity of the critical
examiner to detect any specific mixture or compound by which their
characteristic excellence has been attained. It is neither warmth nor
coolness that elicits admiration, force nor delicacy, high key nor low
key ; but always harmony and entire subordination of means. Now,
we are not to suppose that this subordination has been especially aimed
at by the artist, but that it is the consequence of the process by which
higher aims have been reached.

' Execution is simply the mode of applying paint to the canvas. It is
praiseworthy when it gives assurance of correctness in drawing, and of the
knowledge and feeling that have guided the hand. Too much importance
is often attached to it, and the young artist is apt to regard it as one of
the first objects of his pursuit, instead of the natural consequence of his
practice. Your execution will be good in proportion to your knowledge
and skill in drawing ; when it becomes conspicuous as a principal feature
of the picture, it is presumptive evidence, at least, of deficiency in some
higher qualities. So, your colouring will more likely be good, or even

APPENDIX. 217

excellent, when it does not arrest the attention, and thus divert the eye
and mind from the superior considerations of design, composition, and
character

' Servile imitation, so called, is difficult to understand. If its meaning
is limited to that view of realism which accepts commonplace forms and
appearances, without searching for the ideal of beauty, the objections are
valid ; but if it comprehends the faithful representation of all that is most
beautiful and best fitted for the purposes of Art, really existing and
accessible, and ever waiting to be gathered up by earnest love and
untiring labour, then is it an utter fallacy, born of indolence and conceit.
With the faculty to perceive and select from the infinite beauty and
significance of Nature, surely no artist can reasonably complain for lack
of unbounded liberty. Imitation of Nature is indeed servile, and every
way unworthy, when it discards the necessity of selection

' I desire not to limit the universality of Art, or require that the artist
shall sacrifice aught to patriotism ; but, untrammelled as he is, and free
from academic or other restraints by virtue of his natal position, why
should not the American landscape-painter boldly originate a high and
independent style, based on his native resources ? — ever cherishing an
abiding faith that the time is not far remote when his beloved Art will
reflect the fine scenery of his " own green forest land," and secure for
the artist as fair a coronal as ever graced a brow " in that Old World
beyond the deep."

c Truly yours,

' A. B. DURAND.'

F F

2i 8 APPENDIX.

II.

Reply of Horatio Greenough to a criticism by George William
Curtis on the picture, 'God's Judgment upon Gog,' published
in the 'New York 'Tribune J 1852.

' To the Editors of the Home Journal.

' Gentlemen,

'I find in the Daily Tribune of May 20th [1852],
under the rubric of " Fine Arts," a criticism of Mr. Durand's picture of
the destruction of Gog and his host, which seems to me to deserve a
moment's attention. It commences as follows : —

' " Whatever Mr. Durand does is undeniably excellent. We had the
pleasure, last year, of recording at some length our impression of his charac-
teristics as a painter. His position is assured. A quiet, pastoral poet — a
Thomson on canvas — always soothing, never inspiring — sure to please, equally
sure not to surprise — a careful and loving student and imitator of the placid
aspect of nature, and a genius that breathes pastoral peace over all his works —
such was, in general, our feeling of Mr. Durand as an artist. It has been
confirmed from year to year. There has been little marked advance, within
our recollection, although certainly no retrocession. As with Bryant in poetry,
it does not seem that the artist's experience deepens and widens with time.
What they paint or sing to-day, they might have painted and sung twenty
years ago. Without insinuating that either painter or poet suggests the remark,
it is yet true that he who labours to preserve a reputation will be very apt to
cease to deserve it. The stern claim made upon every artist, of whatever
department, is to leave what he has done behind him, in his perpetual passage
to greater achievements. It is a terrible law, but we are all held to it. And
the history of illustrious men is the story of their unceasing advance."

' You will remark that the critic gives Messrs. Bryant and Durand
each a sugar-plum and a box on the ear. They are bidden to be content
with respectability and excellence. They are told that they can never

APPENDIX. 219

surprise, and, lest the slap should fail to reach them, they are reminded
shortly afterward that greatness always surprises. Disclaiming any intent
to belittle these men, he asserts that " he who labours to preserve a
reputation will seldom deserve it." Not satisfied with judging the work
of Durand for what it is intrinsically, the critic lugs in Raphael and
Kaulbach, and coolly measures the stature of the President of the School
of Design. He cites before his anonymous authority two very able men,
and thrusts upon their brows two small garlands of " Daphne's deathless
plant," seeking the while to sting them to the quick by a poisoned thorn
wreathed with the verdure of approbation. Is this fair criticism?

' It is a strain of remark seldom applied to the works of those that are
passed away, yet, to my reason and feeling, is singularly uncourteous and
offensive as towards contemporaries. If either of the gentlemen thus
dealt with were a hero of the hour— mounted upon vogue, and riding
roughshod over a blinded public, debasing the general taste by claptrap,
or filling his pockets by the hurried abuse of certain popular elements of
effect, I would understand such asperity, and perhaps excuse it. As it
stands, it looks to me very like an outrage — coming from under cover,
a mean outrage.

' An impartial public does not thus judge those whose study and
labours are devoted to the best and purest enjoyments of society. An
impartial public does not, in accepting the fruit of any man's genius, flout
him by trumpeting some one else, and thus send him away with a flea in
his ear.

' Charles Churchill undervalued the genius of Hogarth. He sought
to stamp him as one who, in a world of beauty, saw only vice to lash and
deformity to ridicule ; but this talk about Hogarth, thus presented in the
garb of criticism and approbation, too, was only personal hate and spite
in disguise. A contemporary of D. Teniers might easily have wounded
his feelings by setting forth the greatness of the styles he never attempted,
and lauding his ale-house scenes and groups of peasantry, but collective
manhood would soon deal justly with such criticism. Collective man-
hood would see in such talk about the grand style, only a bullet ; in such
praise behind it, the gun-cotton intended to send it home. In short, a
grudge against old David, and no special love of painting. Collective
manhood has silence for the failures of able men, and joy and reward for

22o APPENDIX.

their success. It is often your individual who has been socially froisse, or
perhaps overshadowed, who lets off a petard of this kind under the seat
where the approved have been placed by opinion.

' With the long and clever discussion about the difference of the old
and new dispensations I have nothing to do, but will remark in passing
that the writer seems well fitted to handle such matters. He has the
acumen and the rancour adapted to theological problems. There is one
quotation, however, in the article singularly at war with its general spirit,
and, to my sense, worth all the rest of it, " Little children, love one
another ! "

' Let us hope that the frame of mind in which this criticism of
Durand was written is not habitual. If it be so, then doth the writer
inhabit a little hell of his own, from which we wish him a speedy
deliverance. We wish it truly; for we have remarked that only your
originally sweet wine will sour to a vinegar of such acrid proof.

' Yours,

' An Artist.'

' To the Editors of the Home Journal.

' Gentlemen,

' I had occasion, a few weeks since, to complain of the
spirit in which a correspondent of the Tribune had ventured to state not
only what Mr. Durand is, but what he thought that painter lacks of
"greatness." I wish now to say a few words about a "terrible law"
to which " we are all held," to leave behind us our past works in a
constant march towards perfection.

' I have known many terrible laws, but they were all human laws,
and, in the long run, proved just as foolish as they were terrible. I have
known several men of undoubted genius, and never found them groaning
under a sense of oppression of the kind set forth in the Tribune. The
man of genius is pre-eminently the servant of a God whose service is
perfect freedom. This terror — this delirium tremens — of responsibility

APPENDIX. 221

belongs, I believe, rather to what is called talent, especially when con-
joined with a fierce desire to parvenir^ as the French say — to succeed.

' Your man of genius goes about looking for responsibility ; and when
he finds it, he takes it joyfully, often telling you, somewhat frankly, that
he is the man for it, and forgetting, in the fervour of his volition, that
modesty which the copy-books have conjoined inseparably with merit.
He not only promises largely, magnificently, but he tells you that his
performance is not to be despised — Exeg'i monumentum cere perennius !
Regalique situ pyramidum altius. That's the way he talks when he is
communicative and in good humour with himself.

' I believe it is Ovid who shows his conviction of the immortality
of the soul by loudly defying old " tempus edax rerum " to strike one
leaf from his laurelled brow.

' Dante says that he writes from a harmony, that suona dentro inside
of him. He accuses no terrible pressure from without, except political
tyranny and want of bread. L'altrui pane — eating the crust of charity
— that is his complaint. Shakespeare's " eye in a fine frenzy rolling,"
rolled from the fulness of the God within, not from fear of outward
look or black mark in the Tribune.

' I am afraid that some of our critics, with their stern claims and
terrible law, have swallowed more of the east wind than is good for
the liver. They may do harm with this reign of terror. Boys of
genius are sprouting in every direction, by all accounts. Why scare them
in this way ?

' Look at Robert Burns ! When he brought forward his little speci-
mens of the utterance of genius, the dominant intellect of Britain said,
" It is naught ! " So they set him to gauge whiskey ; yet, when he had
gone his way, " straightway they rejoiced !" built him a huge monument,
and bemoaned him. So far from making any stern claim upon this mind,
now known as the very jewel of Scotland, the dunderheads never found
out what he was good for until he was gone. Burns hankered and
cankered — he confessed it — but it was not for fear of not getting utter-
ance : it was, he says, " to see their cursed pride." They made stern
claims of some kind or other, and he protested against them. There is
little doubt that the man saw in the distance the big marble monument
that was to shelter his image. He would gladly have exchanged some

222 APPENDIX.

tithe of its future outlay and splendour, and have received therefor a
cottage for his wife and bread for his bairns. What terror inspired his
song ? If I mistake not, he says, roundly, " I rhyme for fun."

' Though my hair is now fast whitening, I remember, as it were but
yesterday, my wedding-day. The parson who officiated on that occasion
was one of these " terrible law " people ; he made my Mary weep, and I
gave him, internally, an Irish blessing. Now, I have never found, during
a long life, any of the terrible business he talked about. We prefer each
other now as we did then — at least that is my position ; and when I trace
in our boys the joint resemblance, my heart expands with such proof of
sympathy.

1 Genius would seem to make immense efforts, almost unconsciously,
and to keep a large reserve out of the fight altogether. Shakespeare went
into the country and remained still. He has told us that he knew his
name would have a life where life is most active, "even in the mouths
of men." Lord Bacon, too, pointed out his future station in the
world's opinion, adding, mournfully, that it must be withheld " until
some time be passed away." This disposition on the part of mediocrity
to harry and scourge and flout men of creative power, looks more like
the result of a terrible law than anything else in the annals of genius.
Still, it is too general not to be an ordinance of God. Like loves
like, and it requires the collective heart of man to made a quorum to
judge the broad, the deep, the genial soul. The man of vast power
of mind is like the fortress full of armed hosts, with spears glittering over
the turret, with pointed artillery and burning match. We set down to
sketch it and glorify it more cordially when the portcullis chain is
broken, the guns are spiked, and the ivy and the owl have possession of

its towers.

' Yours truly,

' An Artist.'

III.

LIST OF ENGRAVINGS BY A. B. DURAND.

Portraits.

Old Pat, after a study from life by
Waldo.

John Trumbull, author of ' M' Fin-
gall,' after the portrait painted by
Col. John Trumbull.

James Otis.

Franklin, after a medallion.

Rev. James Milnor.

Rev. Alexander McLeod, D.D.

Rev. Henry Wilbur.

Rev. Samuel H. Cox, D.D.

Rev. J. B. Matthies.

Rev. Wm. Ross.

Rev. Hugh Blair, D.D.

Rev. Richard Reese.

Rev. Joshua Soule.

Rev. Elijah Woolsey.

Rev. Wm. Phcebus.

Rev. Elijah Hedding.

Rev. Laban Clark.

Rev. James B. Finley.

Rev. Wm. Patton.

Rev. J. M. Matthews.

Rev. Philip Milledoler.

Rev. J. B. Romeyn, D.D.

Rev. John Wesley {copy).

Rev. Gardner Spring.

Rev. Sylvester Lamed.

Rev. John Summerneld.

Rev. John M. Mason, D.D., after

a portrait by Jarvis.
Rev. Eliphalet Nott.
Rev. Edmund D. Griffin.
Rev. Nathaniel Bangs.
Rev. Dr. Dalcho.
Rev. Wm. Jay.
Rev. Wm. Sprague.
Benjamin West.
Ma-mencue.
Iturbide.
Oliver Wolcott.
Philip Hone.
Wm. Paulding, after a drawing by

the engraver.
Cadwallader D. Colden.
John Hunter.
Noah Webster.
Adam Clarke, LL.D.
Michael Pekenino.
W. H. Crawford.
Judge Piatt.
Anna Braithewaite.

224

APPENDIX.

Portraits

Elias Boudinot.

Wm. Fuller, after a drawing by
C. C. Ingham.

Major-General C. C. Pinckney.

John Quincy Adams, after a por-
trait by Sully.

Joseph O. Plessis.

Lindley Murray.

Wm. Floyd.

Wm. Pinkney.

Hugh Williamson, M.D.

Wm. Gibson, M.D.

Wm. Swaine, M.D.

Valentine Mott, M.D.

Philip S. Physick, M.D.

S. L. M. Mitchell, M.D.

Thomas Cooper, M.D.

David Hosack, M.D., after the por-
trait by Sully.

Lieut.-Col. Charles de Salaberry.

General Andrew Jackson, full-
length, after the picture by John
Vanderlyn.

John Trumbull, after the portrait
by Waldo and Jewett.

Gilbert Stuart, after a miniature by
Sarah Goodrich.

Isaac Shelby, after the portrait by
Jewett.

Commodore Decatur, after a copy by
Herring of the portrait by Sully.

Joel Barlow, after the portrait by
Robert Fulton.

General Jacob Brown, after the por-
trait by Jarvis.

[continued).

John Jay, after the portrait by Stuart
and Trumbull.

Aaron Ogden, after the portrait by
the engraver.

William Gaston, after the portrait
by G. Cooke.

John Brooks, after a copy by Her-
ring of the original by Stuart.

James Kent, LL.D., after the por-
trait by Spencer .

James Monroe, after the portrait by
John Vanderlyn.

Alexander Hamilton.

David Crockett, after the portrait by
A. I. De Rose.

John Marshall, LL.D., after the
portrait by Inman.

Mr. Cowell.

Mr. Hilson.

Mr. Duff!

Mrs. Barnes.

Mr. Barnes.

Mrs. Hilson.

Mr. Macready.

Edwin Forrest.

George Jones.

James H. Hackett.

Stephen Van Rensselaer.

Rem Rapelje.

De Witt Clinton, after a medal-
lion.

De Witt Clinton, after the portrait
by Inman.

De Witt Clinton, after the portrait
by Ingham.

APPENDIX.

225

Morgan Lewis.

Garrit Furman.

Robert C. Sands.

Catherine M. Sedgwick, after the
portrait by Ingham.

George Washington, after the por-
trait by Trumbull.

Portraits (continued).

George Washington, after the por-
trait by Stuart.

George Washington, after a drawing
by Miss Sparks from the bust by
Houdon.

Charles Carroll of Carrolton, after
a portrait by Harding.

American Landscape.

Weehawken, after a view painted

by TV. f. Bennett.
Catskill Mountains, after a view

painted by the engraver.
Fort Putnam, after a view painted

by R. TV. Weir.

The Delaware Water-Gap, after a
view painted by the engraver.

Falls of the Sawkill, after a view
painted by W. J. Bennett.

Winnipiseogee Lake, after a view
painted by T. Cole.

Illustrations for Annuals.

The Ghost of Darius, after a picture

by Inman.
The Wife, after a picture by Morse.
The Dying Greek.
The Sisters, after a picture by Morse.
The Greek Boy, after a picture by

R. W. Weir.
The Greek Lovers.
Gipsying Party, after a picture by

C. R. Leslie.
William Tell.

The Power of Love.

The Dull Lecture, after a picture

by Stuart Newton.
Anne Page, Slender, and Shallow,

after a picture by C. R. Leslie.
The White Plume, after a portrait

by Ingham.
The Bride of Lammermoor, after a

picture by Inman.
Sancho Panza and the Duchess,

after a picture by C. R. Leslie.

G G

226

APPENDIX.

Miscellaneous.

Head of St. Anthony.

Arrival of Hendrik Hudson.

The Declaration of Independence,
after the picture by fohn Trumbull.

Musidora, after a design by the
engraver.

Title-page for a volume commemo-
rative of the opening of the Erie
Canal, published by the City of
New York.

Title-page for the New York Mirror.

Design for theTypographical Society.

Diploma for the New York His-
torical Society.

The Monument of Edmund Kean,
St. Paul's Churchyard, New York.

Lady Lightfoot, racehorse.

Eclipse, racehorse.

Ball tickets and Business cards.

Vignettes, miniature portraits, and
other designs for Bank-notes, esti-
mated at one hundred in number.

Ariadne, after the picture by fohn
Vanderlyn.

INDEX.

Academy of Fine Arts, Pennsylvania, 61
Academy of Design, National, 27, 62,

in, 125, 169; exhibitions, 133
Academy Fine Arts, American, 27, 61, 62
Allen, Theodore, no; and the New

York Gallery, 127
Allston, 46 ; ' Bloody Hand,' 66 ; cele-
brity of the day, 104; conversation
with Durand, 1 1 1
American Art, eclipse of, 192
American villages, 5
Andre\ Major, 120
Anecdotes :—
Academy building designs, 181
Academy v. Art Union, 170
Bank-note, order for a, 71
Bennett, J. Gordon, and the New

York Gallery, 128
Clarke and William Page, 88
Clover's portrait of Clarke, 88
Commission, minute instructions for

a, 199
Cozzens, Abraham, and the New York

Gallery, 129
Cruel hoax, 89

'Engraving the Ministers,' 55
' Interviewed,' 206
Lady's design for a landscape, 137
Luman Reed and his carman, 106 ;
and Hackett, 117; his munificence,
127
McDonald Clarke and William Page,

88
Map-making, 206

Negress and ' Impressionist,' 68, note
Pekenino, 36
Portrait-landscapes, 136
Proving an ' Old Master,' 66
Sketch Club, imposing a penance, 95 ;

sumptuary law, 93
Trumbull and painting as a profes-
sion, 214

Art, nature of, 47; American, 58, 60;
appreciation of foreign, at expense of
native, 67 ; Fashion and, 66 ; history in
relation to, 52 ; past and present, dif-
ference between, 53 ; picture dealer,
65 ; Smybert, 102

Art Union, American, 126, 133 169 ;
'Art Union war,' 171

Artists, early American, 103

Artist, service of, to society, 47 ; a psy-
chologist, 47; Europe the Mecca of
the American, 142 ; qualities of, 48

Astor, John Jacob, 79

Authors, recreations of, 39

Autobiographical fragment, 17

Authorities consulted : —

Adams, Brooks, Emancipation of

Massachusetts, 2
Adams, C. F., Three Episodes of Mas-
sachusetts History, 7, 10 1
Art Union Bulletin, 169
Bancroft, 7

Cummings, T. S., Historic Annals of
National Academy of Design, 27, 91
Dunlap, History of the Arts of De-
sign, 27, 54, 62, 103, 104; Life of
Trumbull, 27
Durand, J., Prehistoric Notes of the

Century Club, 91
Eggleston, Edward, 3
Godwin, Parke, Life of W. C. Bryant,

79
Huntington, Daniel, Memorial Ad-
dress, 19, 25,43,81, 175-181,205,208
Lecky, History or England, 8, 60, 190
Mel lick, Story of an Old Farm, 8, 9, n
Nichols, T. L., Forty Yeats in Ame-
rica, 2, 10, 1 r-14
Phillips, Barnet, A sher Brown Durand,

56, 70, 206
Sloane, W. M., French War and Revo ~
lution, n

228

INDEX.

Barnum, P. T., ' Gallery of Beauty,' 138

Doughty, 134

Bennett, James Gordon, 128

Dukand, A. B.: —

Belts, F. J., 135

Aim in his profession, 46

Beverages, 10

Allston, visit to, 1 11

Bolivar, 37

American Landscape, 72

Bonheur, Rosa, 'The Horse Fair,' 193

Applications for advice to, 202

Brimmer, Martin, 103

'Ariadne,' 76

British Institution, 146

Artist's career, condition and develop-

Bruen, Mary, wife of Samuel Durand, 2

ment of, 47

Bryan, Elizabeth, wife of Dr. John

Artists, American, at Rome, 162

Durand, 1

Art patronage in the West, 187

Burr, Aaron, 45

Avenger of wrong, 83 ; letter from

offender, 84

Capture of Major Andre, 1 20

'Athens in Greece,' 136

Casilear, J. W., letter from Durand, 1 1 1

Belgium, arrives in, 155

Casts, association for procuring, 62

Calmet, Dictionary of the Bible, illus-

Century Club, 91 ; cause of formation of,

trations of, 24

Claude, impressions of, 158

Chalon, A. E., 148

Closing years, 207

Chapman, 134

Commissions from C. A. Davis and

City and Country, 141

Luman Reed, 108

Clarke, McDonald, the ' Mad Poet,' 87;

Correspondence, 43, ill, 113, 180;

cruel hoax, 88; and W. Page, 88;

with Messrs. Cary & Lea, 59

verses by, 88, note

Criticism of Durand's work by G. W.

Clay, Henry, 108

Curtis, 218

Claude, Durand's impressions of, 158

Designs for Academy building, 182;

Clover, Rev. Dr. L. P., note by, on

dissent of the President, 182

Clarke, 88

Discussion on Rousseau, 40

Cole, Thomas, 119; ' Course of Empire,'

Domestic affliction, 179

119; letters from Durand, 123, 134;

Eccentric connoisseur, 140

letters to Durand, 136, 141 ; method

Elysian Fields, 39

of landscape-painting, 81; 'Voyage of

English painters, criticisms of, 147

Life,' 120, 169

Engravers, 46

Collections, private, 65, 125

Engraving for business purposes, 69

Colonial times, rank in society, 2 ; vil-

Engraving of ' Declaration,' &c, 25

lages, 5

Engravings, list of, 223; for publica-

Combe, George, 144

tions, 59

Commercial man, the, ior

Excursions into the country, 183

Constable, 151

Favourite writers, 38, 205

Cooper, J. Fenimore, letter by, on

Florence, 157

copying Italian pictures, 64

Fourth of July Oration, 30

Copley, J. S., 103

French origin, 1

Corcoran Gallery, Washington, 102

Funeral in Greenwood Cemetery, 209

' Course of Empire,' T. Cole, 119

Grammar machine, 20, note

Cozzens, A. M., ' posts ' his father in art

Ideal landscape, an old lady's, 137

history, 129; private collection, 125;

Illness of, 82

succeeds Mr. Wetmore as President

Influence of environment on, 15

of Art Union, 171

Initiatory efforts at painting, 98

Crayon, The, 189

Installation in New York, 35

Instructions for a design, 71

Dealer, picture, natural product of com-

' Interviewed,' 206

mercial spirit, 66

John Bull, 154

Debating societies, 38

Journal, 143

Delaroche's ' Hemicycle,' 45

Lands in England (1840), 146

INDEX.

229

Durand, A. B. (continued) :

Landscape, European and American,

Rome, 161

166

'Solitude,' 39

Letters from P. T.Barnum, 138 ; Thos.

Speech in 1857, 180

Cole, 136, 141; W. Dunlap, 54;

Speed of work, 113

Alvan Fisher, 43 ; Luman Reed,

Studies at Rome, 163

116; P. M. Wetmore, 170

'Surprise party,' 201

' Letters on Landscape,' to the Crayon,

Swiss scenery, 156

189, 211

Temperament, 207

Letters to Thomas Cole, 123, 134, 140,

Theatre, visits to, 39

158; to J. W. Casilear, 11 1

Tour abroad (1840), 143

Life on board ship, 144

Trial and sorrow, 82

London and its sights — masquerade,

Turning-point in his life, 131

153

Various paintings, 165

Looking forward to return home,

Visits to picture galleries, 146

(1841), 165

Wilkie's methods, on, 148

' Love and Moonshine,' 34

Durand, Cyrus, inventions by, 20, note,

' Lower ten,' 41

Manuscript notes, 81

Durand family, qualities of, 3 ; reasons

Maps and their accuracy, 206

for migration to New Jersey, 2

Marriage of, 35 ; second marriage of,

Durand, Jean, French ancestor, 1

142

Durand, John, birth of, 2 ; marriage of,

' Musidora,' engraving of, 38, 75

3 ; names of children, 3 ; purchase of

Notes on facial expression and antique

land at Jefferson Village, 2 ;

costume, value of, 81

Durand, Samuel, birth of, 1 ; marriage of,

' Old Masters,' 147

2; settles at Newark, N.J., 2

Painting by prescription, 199

Dusseldorf Gallery, 192

Painting from Nature, 8 1

Paris and French artists, 155

Edmonds, Mr. F. IV., autobiographical

Partnership with his brother, 70

memoranda, 17; travels with Durand,

Patriotism of, 32

164

Poetical effusions, 33

English encroachment, 7

Portrait painted by Col. Trumbull, 27;

Exhibition, first in the country, 62

by Daniel Huntington, 176 ; by

Expansion of wealth, 194

Rowse, 179

Portraits of the artist, 209

Faile, Thomas H., 125, 128, 130, 132

Portraits (engraved) : Adams, John

Fisher, Alvan, letter of, 43

Ouincy, 56; Jackson, General, 56;

Flagg, G. W., 114, 122

ministers, engravings of, 55 ; vari-

Flagg, Jared B., recollections of Durand,

ous subjects, 56, 57 ; Washington,

203

Food and cooking, 10

'Portrait-landscapes,' 136

Franklin, Benjamin, on conversation,

Portrait-painting under difficulties, 108

9 1

Practice in landscape-painting, 188

French Art in America, 194

President of the National Academy,

Fyt, ' Dogs and Game,' 115

170 ; resigns, 177

Purchase of pictures by Art Union,

Gallery of Beauty, ' Premium Portraits '

172

for, 138

Procures examples of eminent en-

Gallery of Fine Arts, New York, history

gravers, 46

of, 126, 127

Rambles, 39

Genealogy of Durand, 1

Recollections of Durand, written by

Graham, Sylvester, 38; affected by death

J. B. Flagg, 203

of brother-poet, 87 ; apostle of bran-

Return from Europe (1841), 165

bread, 85; 'poetic temperament,' 86

230

INDEX.

Greenough, Horatio, 64 ; reply to a
criticism of Durand by G. VV. Curtis,
218; the 'terrible law' unnoticed by
genius, 221

Hackett, J. H., the actor, correspond-
ence, 117

Haggerty, Ogden, 132

Harper, James, 129

Heath, James, 25

Historical Society, New York, 130

Hone, Philip, collection of, 65

Hopkinson, Joseph, and the Society of
Artists, 63

Houdon, 47

Hoyle, 134

Hudson, Hendrik, 5

Huguenots, 1, 19

Illustrated publications : — ' American
Landscape,' 72 ; 'Annual,' 58, 91 ;
'Atlantic Souvenir,' 59; 'Gift,' 59;
' Talisman,' 59 ; ' Token,' 59

Impressionism, 68

Independence, Declaration of, 3 ; en-
graving by Durand, 25

Ingham, 133

Inman, 60

Jackson, General, sits for portrait, 108

Jarvis, 45 ; humour, 80

Jefferson Village, 2 ; beverages, 10;
bigotry in, 8 ; difficulty of procuring
'help,' 13; dressmaker, 14; food and
cooking, 12; maladies, 13; pastimes,
9 ; situation of, 4 ; street nomencla-
ture, 15 ; topography, 14; winter, 12

Kensington Museum, 191

Lafayette, Marquis of, letter from Trum-
bull to, 26

Landseer, merits of, 151

Language, hieroglyphic, 49

Latrobe, B. H., 63

Leslie, C. R., 104, 148, 150

' Letters on Landscape Painting ' : —
advice to students, 211 ; colour and
harmony, 215 ; execution, 216; form,
212 ; imitation and representation,
215 ; servile imitation, 217

Leupp, C. M., 117, 125

Leney, W. S., 22

Line engraving, a fine art, 45 ; public

taste, 46
Livingston, Robert R., purchase of casts

for American Academy, 62

Maladies in New Jersey, 13

Maplewood, 15

Marsh, G. P., 133

Maverick, Peter, 23

Milford, Connecticut, town of, 1

Mizon, M., the explorer, 68, note

Morghen's ' White Horse,' 46

Morse, 60, 133

Mount, W. S., some of his pictures, 120;

122, 134
Mayer, Dr., 206
Music, 10
1 Musidora,' 38, 175

Neale, printer of engravings, 26

Newark, 2

New York, 5 ; Broadway, 23, 78 ;
changes in, 40 ; expansion of, 78

New York Mirror, devoted to ' belles-
lettres,' 63

Nucleus institution of American primi-
tive life, 4 ; church served as club, 7 ;
peculiarities, 5 ; religious questions, 8

' Old Masters,' 67 ; Durand's criticisms

of, 147
' Old Pat,' painting by Waldo, 25
Oliphant, R. M., 125

Paff, Michael, picture dealer, 66

Page, W., 133

Paintings by Durand : —

'An Old Man's Lesson' (1846), 173
'An Old Man's Reminiscences' (1845),

173
' Berkshire, Massachusetts' (1869), 178
'Black Mountain, Lake George'

(1864), 178
' Capture of Major Andre' (1833), I2 °
' Castle Blonnai' (184-), 165
' Church at Stratford-on-Avon' (1841),

165
' Close of a Sultry Day,' 173
' Composition' (landscape)(i86i), 177;

(1863), 178
'Composition' (1866), 178
'Cottage on Lake Thun' (1840), 165
'Dance on the Battery' (1836), 132
'Dover Plains' (1848), 173

INDEX.

231

Paintings by Durand {continued) :
' Forenoon 1 and 'Afternoon'(i847), 173
'Genesee Oaks' (1861), 177
'God's Judgment upon Gog' (1852),

174
'Hagar in the Wilderness' (1829), 98
'Healing the Possessed' (1837), 132
'High Point, Shandakin' (1853), 175
'Hillsdale' (1863), 177
'Ideal' (landscape) (1864), 178
'Indian Vespers' (1849), 174
' In the Woods' (1855), 175
'June Showers' (1855), 175
'Kindred Spirits' (1849), 174
'Lake George' (1863), 177
'Lake Hamlet' (1857), 176
'Landscape Composition' (1847), 173
'Landscape' (1857), 176; (1858), 176;

(1862), 177; (1864), 178
'Last Interview between Washington

and Harvey Birch' (1843), 133
' Mary Magdalen at the Sepulchre '

(1826), 98
'Moonlight' (1868), 178
' Morning and Evening of Life ' ( 1 840),

135
'Morning Ride' (1851), 174
'New Hampshire Scenery' (1858), 176
'Oberhasle' (1 841), 165
'OberweseF(i84i), 165
'On the Island of Capri' (1841), 165
' Passage through the Woods' (1846),

173
'Picnic' (1865), 178
Portraits: ' Col. Aaron Ogden' (1833)

99; 'John Manesca' (1833), 99;

'Mr. Jonathan Sturges' (1865), 178;

group of three children (1833), 98;

various, 109-112, 135
' Primeval Forest' (1854), 175 ; (1870),

178, 198
'Progress' (1853), 175
'Raven Hill' (1851), 174
'Reminiscence of the Plaaterkill

Clove' (1859), 176
'Rip van Winkle' (1838), 132
'Ruth and Naomi' (1837), 132
' Sailing Party,' 135
'Samson and Delilah' (1831), 98
'Samson shorn of his Locks' (1827),

98
'Santa Cruz' (1865), 178
' Saturday Afternoon' (1840), 135
'Shipwreck' (1850), 174

Paintings by Durand (continued):

' Showery Day among the Mountains '
(i860), 177

'Solitude' (1865), 178

' Souvenir of the Adirondacks' (1879),
200

' Stranded Ship,' 135

'Summer Afternoon' (1855), 175

'Sunday Morning' (1850), 174; (i860),
177

'Sun Effect' (1866), 178

'Sunset on Chocorua' (1876), 199 .

'Symbol' (1856), 176

'Thanatopsis,' (1850), 174

'Trees,' (1864), 178

'The Pedler,' (1835), 120

'The Rainbow,' 135

'View on Lake George' (187-), 199

'View on the Susten Pass' (184-), 165

'Western Emigrants,' 135

'Wrath of Peter Stuyvesant' (1836)
120
Papers, family, 8
Paulding, J. K., 120
Peale, C. W, association of artists, 62 ;

103

Pekenino, Michael, letters from, 36 ;
return to Italy, y]

Philanthropists, 84

Portrait-painting among the Anglo-
Saxons, 190

Post, Rachel, Dutch origin of, 3

Pre-Raphaelites, 68

Presidents, portraits of, 108, no, 114

Profession of an artist a hard one, 43

Reed, Luman, 97; appreciation, 126; as-
sists J. H. Hackett, 118; benefactions,
116; birth and career, 105; character-
istics, 105; connoisseur, 107; effects
of his example on art, 125; erection
and decoration of his house, 121 ; his
illness, 123; death, 124; letters from,
109, no, 116; to G. W. Flagg, 114,
122 ; New York Gallery of Fine Arts,
126; presentation to Museum, Brook-
lyn, 114; relations with Thomas Cole,
119; sends G. W. Flagg to Europe,
114; sympathy and munificence, 127

Religious feeling, symbols and expres-
sion of — Egyptian, 49 ; Greek, 50 ;
Roman, 50; Christian, 51

Renaissance, 51

Roberts, M. O., 125

232

INDEX.

Rubens, fete in honour of, 156
Ruskin, influence in America, 193

Sands, R. C, letter to the Stmidard, 92

Schools of Art : American, 189; Dutch,
47, 52 ; English, 67 ; French, 67

Self-government, 7

Sketch Club, or, 'The XXI.,' 90 ; ob-
jects, bye-laws, 92 ; scientific inspira-
tion, 95; members of the Club, 96;
Sketch Club jollity, 95

Smillie, James, 73; engraving of 'Voy-
age of Life,' 120

Smillie, James D., note by, 74

Smith, Enos, 22

Smybert, influence of, 102

Soap and butter as mediums for model-
ling, 69

Springfield, 2

Stanfield, style, 151

Stevens, Frank, 41

Stevens, John, 41, note

Stevens' property, 40

Stuart, Gilbert, 103, 104

Sturges, Jonathan, 125 ; President of
Gallery of Fine Arts, 127, 130; aids
Durand, 135, 142

Sully, 46, 133

Tennent, Gilbert, preaches at Amboy,

8
Town, Ithiel, commissions to Cole and

Durand, 136

Trumbull, Col., death of, 27; Dunlap and
Trumbull, 27, note; engages Durand
to engrave the ' Declaration of Inde-
pendence,' 25 ; negotiations with trus-
tees of Yale College, 28 ; progenitor
and President of American Academy,
27 ; relations with Durand, 27 ; trans-
ference of Trumbull collection, 29

Turner, 150, 152

Vanderlyn, 45; 'Ariadne,' 76; 60, 104,

128
Van Dyck's ' Moncada,' 45
'Voyage of Life,' 120, 169

Waldo, 25, 28, 45

Ward, Samuel, encourages native art,
119, 125

Water-colour painting, 147

Wealth, influence of, 100

Weir, R. W., 134

Weir, John F., 202

West, Sir Benjamin, 37, note; emigra-
tion to England, 47, 104

Wetmore, Prosper M., president of the
Art Union, 170

Wilkie, Sir David, Durand introduced
to, 148

Winckelmann and Lessing, art theories,
161

Yale College, 28

Yale School of Fine Arts, 29

ERRATA.

Page 65, 1. 4 from the bottom, for Fennimore read Fenimore.
Page 74, '1. 2 from the top, for James B. Smillie read James D. Smillie.

DM 2.7. 21 8 5<* %

London : Printed by Strangcways & Sons, Tower Street, Cambridge Circus, W.C.

ERRATA.

The following errors, mainly due to the conditions under which the
proofs were read, must be noted by the reader :

Page 56, for John Marshall, first chief-justice, read John Marshall, chief-
justice.

Page 56, for Charles Carrol of Carrolton, read Charles Carroll of Car-
rollton.

Page 57 and elsewhere, for S. L. M. Mitchell, read S. L. Mitchell.

Pages 59 and 60, for Cary, read Carey.

Page 62 and elsewhere, for Charles Wilson Peale, read Charles Willson
Peale.

Page 67, Leslie was not "born on American soil" as stated, but in
England, of American parents.

Page 80, for Thomas Addis Emmett, read Thomas Addis Emmet.

Page 102 and elsewhere, for Smybert, read Smibert.

Page 103, line 9, for Z776, read 1774.

Page 103, line 16, for 1770, read 1768.

Page 103, line 18, for 1774, read 1770.

Page 103, line 21, for 17Q4, read 1777.

Page 103, line 23, for 1872, read 1811.

Page 104, line 17, for ?nore of an adventurer than the rest, read more ad-
venturous than the rest.

Page 192, Leutze, instead of being born in this country, was born in
Nuremberg, Bavaria.

Page 201, line 2 from the bottom, for historiography, read historiographer.

Page 224, for Goodrich, read Goodridge.

Page 224, for Swaine, read Swaim. Omit M.D.

Page 232, index, for Sir Benjamin West, read Benjamin West.

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